


July 1977

by rufus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: dogdaysofsummer, Dog Days of Summer 2006, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufus/pseuds/rufus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month of 1977, or, the one in which I spend 30K+ wrestling with The Prank and how it might have affected the Marauders; the death of Alphard Black; and the first suggestions of the decline of Mrs. Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Revolting Development

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT: 1 : warm stone

The post owls arrived at breakfast, swooping through the dining room hooting and chirping, until Mr. Potter stood up and shouted at them, his tea cup clenched tightly in one shaking hand, and they settled on the table – two in front of Mrs. Potter, one in front of James, one in front of Lily and – Sirius groaned – two in front of him, both of them bearing full bags of mail clutched in their talons. 

"I call two naughty pictures," Peter said, quietly, passing a rolled-up newspaper to Mr. Potter while Sirius handed out strips of bacon and tucked the bags between his ankles.

"Put me down for three proposals of marriage and two pairs of lacey underthings," James all but whispered, unrolling his Quidditch magazine, and Sirius sighed. It was times like this one that he sincerely wished the senior Potters were not slightly deaf.

"Three pairs of lacey underthings, three naughty pictures, and two requests for an autograph," Lily murmured, frowning at her letter, and for a moment Sirius was tempted to throw both bags in the cooking fire on principal.

"Ooh, Henry, puffins!" Mrs. Potter said, and Mr. Potter looked up from the Prophet with a puzzled expression.

"We've a letter from the Wizarding Resort Network, it says –" she paused and took a deep breath, " _in gratitude for your continued loyalty_ , er, that we're invited to spend, oh, a fortnight, starting tomorrow," Mrs. Potter continued, tucking a tendril of white hair behind her ears, "at their newest Club Morgana location, Castle Olaf, which is –" she paused and flipped the letter over, and Sirius saw a broad grin spread across James' face, "—located just outside the city of Stromness, West Mainland, Orkney. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

"No," Sirius said, before he could stop himself, and saw James' face tighten with irritation. "I mean –" he began, and stopped, trying to _think_ , there had to be some other reason he could give that was not _because I do not want to watch other people have it off for two weeks_ or _Moony lives there and he's (still) mad at me_.

"Yes, Sirius?" Lily said, in the same tone she used for coaxing homesick First Years into eating their breakfast on dreary winter mornings, and everyone turned to look at him.

"Er," he said, glaring at James, because protecting his – their – elderly parents from inappropriate _things_ was _his_ job, "Club Morgana, that's not – your usual sort of holiday, is it?" he said, and felt Peter kick him in the ankle. "Don't you tend to go to – other – places?" he added, and kicked Peter back. 

"Hmm? Oh well, when James was small, I suppose," Mrs. Potter said, setting the letter down next to her plate and Summoning a piece of toast. "But once he was off to Hogwarts we took it up again – we were charter members, you know, back when the first one opened on Avalon," she added, and Mr. Potter made a noise of agreement.

"Cracking good show, that was – we shared a hut with a charming couple from – where was it, Elizabeth?" Mr. Potter said, and Sirius saw James' eyes widen as the possibilities inherent in _shared a hut_ crossed his mind.

"Birmingham, I think, love," Mrs. Potter said, taking a dainty bite of her toast. "I got pregnant at a Club Morgana," she added, smiling dreamily. "Easter Island, wasn't it, dear? Such a lovely buffet there, and the ocean breeze over the hammocks – good thing we had an extra-strong Sticking Charm put on, or –"

" _Mum_ ," James interrupted, horrified, and Lily almost choked on a mouthful of tea. _At least **your** parents were having a good time_ , Sirius thought, and poked his French toast with his fork, trying to think of another reason, any other reason –

"Is it – real? The letter?" Lily said, her voice soft but steady, "it isn't a Death Eater trick, to lure us out into the open, and – and – kill us?" 

"Oh, dear – I – I don't think so, but – mm, yes –it would be wise to check," Mrs. Potter murmured, and shook her wand out of her sleeve. There was a long silence while she ran her wand over the parchment, murmuring softly in Latin. 

"Everything seems to be in order," she said, after a while, and Mr. Potter made a pleased noise. "I'll just let them know we'll come, then," she added, and Sirius ate the rest of his breakfast with the feeling of impending doom.

**

_1 July, 1977_

_Dear Serious,_

_I saw your picture in Witch Weekly. You are very pretty! I would like to marry you but Mummy said I can't because I am too little. But she also said if the Dark Lord doesn't do for us all I can marry you later. I have two chickens, and their names are Joanna and Murgatroyd. I also have a kitten. The kitten's name is Elderflower and Mama said she is a very bad kitty, because she fell in the milk pail and spoiled it all_

"Well?" Lily said, startling him out of the letter, and settled down beside him on the sun-warm stone floor of the Summer Parlour, tugging her skirt towards her knees. He could smell her perfume – something light and floral, mixed with the sharp smokey bite of cigarettes. 

"Hmmph," Sirius said, and pushed aside a stack of postcards so she could stretch her legs out properly. "Two naughty pictures and six pairs of lacey underthings, so far," he added, and she laughed.

"Be able to set up your own shop soon," she said, and extended one freckled hand to pick up a small cluster of envelopes that Sirius had segregated from the others on the grounds that they were _pink_ , and not to be trusted. She turned to look at him, her eyebrows asking _May I?_ and he waved her on.

_two days in a row. I go to school at Gurnard and my best friend is called Magda Branslow. I also have an older brother called Dawkins but he is away just now_

"Ugh – that's far too much attar of roses for one letter, Miss – Chantilly Thorne," Lily said, coughing, and he looked up in time to see her Banish the offending parchment. 

"James is writing to Remus now," she added, softly. He felt her hand settle briefly on his knee, as if she was trying to _comfort_ him, and a small wave of guilt rolled through his stomach. "Fair warning, n'that, I reckon," she added, and tore another pink envelope open.

"Yeah," he said, quietly, and wondered, again, what _exactly_ James had told her.

_with the Muggle Army in Ireland. He didn't get a Hogwarts letter but Mummy said she hopes I do or else she is going to lose her bloody mind. She also said she thinks I will be a Ravenclaw but I would much rather be a Gryffindor. I have to go now, but I will write again soon. I hope you have a good holiday._

_Your Future Wife,_

_Glockenspiel Shilling  
Age 8 and 3/4 _

"Ooh, that's three naughty pictures, now," Lily said, laughter in her voice, and Peter stuck his head around the door, an eager expression on his face.

"Go on, then," Sirius said, as Lily sent the pictures floating towards Peter, wondering what sort of woman named her daughter _Glockenspiel_ , anyway, and folded the letter neatly before tearing open the next envelope.

**

"Look, I know you aren't sleeping," James whispered, closing the door behind him, and a few second later Sirius felt a heavy weight settle next to him on the bed.

"Am so," he muttered, and curled into a tighter ball. 

"Come on, Padfoot, it can't possibly be that bad," James said, and Sirius felt a hand settle on his shoulder and squeeze gently. "It's a Club Morgana, for fuck's sake, you know what that means – fit birds – blokes – everywhere, and enough pudding to fell an erumpent. And there's, you know, a disco, and day trips and things –" 

"James –" Sirius began, uncurling enough to roll over, so they were facing each other on the bed, and James heaved a sigh. 

"Probably won't even see him," James said, after a while, and Sirius felt the bed dip again as he rolled away onto his back.

"I'll keep clear, if he wants to come 'round," Sirius muttered, and James made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. 

"Because _that_ will be really easy to explain," James said, after a long silence, and the bed heaved again as he stood up.

"I'm sorry," Sirius murmured, automatically, and pulled his knees against his chest. _You could just leave me at home_ , he thought, and heard the faint click of the door opening.

"Look – all I want, here, is two weeks in which no-one I know dies," James said. "All right? Two weeks in which my only personal crisis is –do I choose chocolate or vanilla ice cream for breakfast? And, and – perhaps a snog with Evans –"

"All right, James," Sirius said, and there was another long silence, before the door clicked shut behind James, and Sirius drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Riding the Iron Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: [2](http://community.livejournal.com/dogdaysofsummer/136033.html)
> 
> WARNINGS: Graphic language and abuse of capitals.

"Oh no, Henry, haven't we seen that shop before, the one just there with all of that funny food in packets?" Mrs. Potter said, a thread of dismay in her voice. 

"They're called crisps," Peter said, absently, as Mr. Potter made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, and Sirius saw James' face go dark and tight, signaling an oncoming storm. He had to admit he felt a bit wobbly himself – the day had begun with a pair of Howlers from _Witch Weekly_ readers who were deeply upset by the way he had cut his hair, which had so distracted him that he hadn't noticed the milk was spoiled until _after_ it was in his tea, and then he had been forced to spend three and a half uncomfortable hours next to Peter on the train from Plymouth while James attempted to canoodle with Evans. And now, to cap it all off, they were lost in Paddington Station and the Muggles were _staring at them._

 _I want to go home_ , Sirius thought, shifting the handle of his trunk from one sweaty hand to the other, as Mr. Potter stopped walking, dropped his battered cases at his feet and turned to look at his wife, his whiskers twitching violently. Out of the corner of his eye Sirius saw one of Lily's hands settle over James' and her fingers curl around his clenched fist. 

"We'll turn around, Elizabeth," Mr. Potter said, his voice as unnaturally calm as James' right before he started throwing hexes at Slytherins. "That is, if you are _quite_ sure –"

"I remember it distinctly, Henry," she said, equally calmly, and Sirius felt a Lily's other hand curl around his right wrist and give it a gentle, Moonyish squeeze. He glanced over at her, surprised, and she gave him a broad wink before turning them both loose and moving closer to the senior Potters.

"I think I saw a sign for the Bakerloo line back a bit, it shouldn't be far now," she said when Mr. Potter turned to look at her, her tone both soothing and a little brighter than necessary, and Mrs. Potter made a triumphant noise. 

"Right, well, lead on, Miss Evans," Mr. Potter said, picking up his cases, and Sirius felt rather than saw James relax as they set off after her.

**

_2 July, 1977_

_Precious,_

_I have long Strained against my Baser Instincts – resisting putting Quill to Parchment -- but have heard from Trusted Sources that you have been Wandering near the Thames, returning like a Lonely Ghost to Our Spot – Weeping most Piteously in the Moonlight, and my Heart did Ache – and so I Caved, my Darling, I Capitulated, and now, finally, I am Alone with my Writing Instruments –_

"Augh, my _eyes_ ," Peter wailed, and Sirius looked up in time to see him fling the photograph he was holding across the compartment at James, who caught it easily and flipped it over. 

"Hmm?" Lily said, glancing up from the letter she was reading, but James ignored her.

_and my Desire – how I have missed You, My Best Beloved – the silky Slide of your Hair, the Delicate Touch of your Fingers on my Flesh – dear Nigel does his best, and I hope you will forgive me taking Comfort where I Can during these Perilous Times but – for all of his Striving and Straining he is not You! He profanes the Beauty of your Work by Singing in the Bath – I have Caught him Twice now, soaping his pendulous Sac (source of so much of my own Frustration!) with your Delicate Words in his mouth –_

"Let me _see_ , Potter, you great prat," Lily said, and Sirius heard James grunt and soft thud, followed by a muffled shriek, and Sirius was suddenly very glad that Mr. and Mrs. Potter had taken their own compartment.

"Oh come on, Evans, you're a Prefect – Moony's told us about always interrupting people at awkward moments – surely you've at least seen one before," Peter said, leaning forward to tug another envelope out of the bag of mail on the floor, and Sirius made a mental note to get the picture back from James later. 

"Still, won't be keeping _that_ for the wank box," Peter added, "put me right off my stroke."

"Oh, fuck off, Pettigrew – wait, what? _Wank box?_ " Lily said, her tone half-outraged and half-amused, and James groaned.

"Well, they are quite nice, most of them, and it would be a shame to have it go to waste," Peter said, as he unfolded the parchment and another photograph fell into his lap. 

_I told him he must Cease and Desist Immediately, and I Punished him – but Gently, Beloved, Gently, of course. And now he is away, Tending to the Needs of his Most Cruel Mistress, Magical Law Enforcement – how she Drives my Nigel, demanding his Presence at all Hours of the Day and Night!_

_Anyway, my Love, while he is struggling in her Clutches, I am free to Revel with you – I am composing this Missive in a State of Nature – I must tell you that I have Pink'd my Bosom and that my Delicate Parts are Quivering_

"Merlin on a _biscuit_ , Sirius," Lily said, and Sirius looked up at her, half wondering how one "pinked" a bosom anyway, half grateful for the interruption. "This the sixth letter today on the state of your hair," she added, waving a lavender-coloured piece of parchment at him. 

"I've got the seventh right here," James said, and pushed his glasses up his nose with his wand.

"Eighth over here, and she sent a lovely photo as well," Peter murmured, "she's done something very, you know, _interesting_ , to her –"

"The writer is also deeply concerned about the condition of your hands, by the way, and has enclosed a tube of ointment _of her own making_ ," Lily continued, "and she begs that you will write her and let her know if it suits you."

"Looks a bit like the Harpies logo," Peter added, "though she said she'd be happy to change it if you liked something different."

"Is it any good, then, Potions Mistress?" Sirius asked, ignoring Peter, and there was a pause while Lily uncapped the tube and sniffed at the contents, her freckled nose wrinkling briefly.

"Won't kill you, does smell a bit strongly of lemon verbena," she murmured, and James made a noise of agreement.

"Moony might like it, then," Peter said, "he likes lemony things. And his hands are always a bit rough, aren't they?"

 _But I like them that way_ , Sirius thought, and then looked down, avoiding James' gaze.

_in Anticipation of your Touch. Tonight I shall leave the Attic Window open and the Light on for You, My Dearest, Sweetest Mourning Dove, so that you may Return to Your Rightful Nest and Sing a Joyful Song!_

_Love, and a Swift Tail Wind,_

_Lobelia Aviance_

"Anything good there, Padfoot?" James asked, and Sirius shrugged, not feeling up to any more conversation, and sat back to watch the landscape change from dingy London grey to the flat green fields of Essex.

**

"Potter, mm – ah yes, here we are," said the witch behind the check-in counter, her dark head bent over a large, leather-bound book, and Sirius heard the faint scratch of quill on parchment. "Five adults and one child for Club Morgana Castle Olaf?"

"Well –" Mr. Potter began, turning to give Sirius an apologetic look, and the witch made a satisfied noise. 

"Will the child require his or her own bed, or would you prefer a cot in your room?" she asked, not looking up. Sirius made an irritated noise – _Do you see any babies with us?_ – and felt Lily's hand settle around his wrist for the second time that day, the pad of her thumb sliding back and forth over the joint in slow, even strokes. He glanced at her impassive expression and wondered what, precisely, Remus had written in reply to James' letter. 

"He'll have a bed, of course, my son is _sixteen_ – Elizabeth – my wife made a note when we made the booking," Mr. Potter said, irritation in his voice, and Sirius felt his heart clench a little at _my son._

"Mm-hmm, and will you be wanting to take advantage of our crèche services, open 9 AM to 3 PM every day, inclusive of nap-time and healthy snacks?" she added, as if he hadn't spoken, peering up at Mr. Potter from over the rims of her glasses, and Sirius heard James snigger from somewhere behind him. 

"Sorry, but were you listening to me just now, madam?" Mr. Potter said, arching one white eyebrow.

"Mmm-hmm, right, no crèche," she murmured. "We also offer round-the-clock nappy delivery and disposal and a complementary child minder for up to two evenings during your holiday," she added, which set Peter to giggling.

"That won't be necessary," Mrs. Potter said, a slight edge in her voice, and Sirius felt her hand settle on his shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Right," the witch said, making a note in the book and sliding six pieces of parchment across the counter, "you're on the _Circe_ , second floor, third compartment on the left, arriving into Stromness at 10 o'clock this evening, thank you for booking your holiday through the Wizarding Resort Network, and have a safe day."

"Oh, Henry, the _Circe_ ," Mrs. Potter said, turning around, and her cases and Sirius' trunk floated neatly into place behind her. "We haven't been on her before, have we? Supposed to be quite posh, isn't she?" she added, setting off into the throng of people.

"Nappies!" James chortled, pushing past him, and Sirius glared at his back.

"Don't _like_ boats," Peter muttered, and took off after James, his trunk bobbing in his wake.


	3. Morning Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 3: Picture of Breakfast

"Yes, yes, all _right_ , Fiona, I said I'd ask him, didn't I?" his mother said into the phone, her voice sharpening with each word. "Yes, all right, hold on," she added, pressed the handset against her shoulder, and rubbed her hand over her face. Remus set his tea cup down and waited.

"Remus, love, your auntie is a bit stressed – the café is overrun, and Sinead missed her ferry, apparently, and – you don't have to go if you aren't well – but –" she said, turning to look at him, and he heard outraged squawking from the headset. He nodded at her, noting the mixture of guilt and relief that flickered across her face, and gulped down the rest of his tea before retrieving his wand from its berth on the wall and Apparating into a secluded bit of garden behind The Whaler's Lament.

He had stowed his wand in the pocket of his jeans and was examining the tiny blue flowers growing at the base of the garden wall when his Aunt Fiona burst out of the back door, a pot of tea in one hand and a plate of sausage in the other.

"Maeve said you were coming," she said, as he straightened, "and when I didn't see the car in the road I reckoned you might be back this way," she said, giving him a broad, red-lipped smile. "Thanks for this, petal – here, have a sausage, you're looking a bit peaky," she added, holding the plate out to him as he made his way up the path.

Remus took two, and kissed her on her powdery, rouged cheek before taking a bite. 

"There's a clean shirt for you on the back of the kitchen door, and Angus left some breeks and stockings behind when he went through to Kirkwall last week, the forgetful wee sod, but the lot will probably still fit you, even if you are growing like a ruddy weed," she said, as he opened the door and stepped into the cool dimness of the rear close. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and ate some more sausage.

"And it's no use looking cross, love, the punters will notice if we're not all properly rigged out. Only a couple of hours, and then you can help me skin Sinead when she turns up, yeah?" she said, imperiling the sausage as she lifted one arm to swipe at her sweaty face. Remus took the plate from her and shrugged.

"Right, I'll leave you to it, then, love," she said, tugging the top of her dress down and taking the plate back, "and when you've changed you can sort me out two over-easy sausage with toast and black tea, one fried with beans and milky tea, one scrambled toast and tomato with milk and three sugars for table four, please, and also table five would like a proper English fry-up and a bowl of porridge with fresh cream, even though as far as they know they are in Scotland and it is July and bloody _hot_ outside, as well," she added, and disappeared down the corridor in a flurry of ruffles.

**

"Two stomach tablets for me, and a pint of grog for you, Remus, in thanks for so valiantly coming to my rescue," Aunt Fiona said, dropping him a curtsey and handing him a full cup of hot, sweet-smelling liquid. He took a tentative sip and tasted mostly cinnamon, with an undertone of something sharper that might have been rum. He took a deeper drink and felt a tingling warmth spread through his body, easing the sting of the places he had burned himself on Fiona's ancient Aga.

"Though, well, not really, old boy, because we'll probably need you for lunch as well," she added, flopping down next to him, "and your mum would have my guts for garters besides, but I've put a tiny bit of something special in, anyway –" she began, and then the dining room door creaked open and Lily Evans walked into the room, wearing a startlingly short skirt and a thin cotton top. A straw hat was perched rakishly atop her head. 

_Oh, Merlin, no_ , Remus thought, and moved his cup in front of his face. If Lily was about it was short odds the rest of them were behind her, somewhere – probably breaking things, if he knew them at all. _James wrote that you were going to the **resort**_ , he thought at her, and wondered if Aunt Fiona had any more strong drink about, his mother's sensibilities be damned.

"Er, sorry, I was just – looking for some tea? The newsie over the way is all out of hot water just now, and he said you might have some left," she said, resettling her bag on her shoulder, her voice soft and a little uncertain, and Remus held very still, half-hoping she wouldn't notice him. 

"Remus, you cheeky bugger, not telling us your school friends would be coming 'round," Aunt Fiona said, standing up, her lips curving up into a smile, and he had to exert considerable effort not to bang his head on the table. He put his cup down and nodded at Lily, who gave him a brief but genuine smile.

"Welcome to the Lament, Miss Evans – I'd know you anywhere, love, though I must say our Remus doesn't begin to do you justice, and of course you may have a cup of tea," she added, and swept off towards the kitchen. 

"Hiya," Lily said, and took her hat off. "Do you, er, have a copy of this morning's _Prophet_ about?" she asked, sitting down in the chair next to him, and Remus shook his head. She made a disappointed noise, and he arched an eyebrow at her.

"Newspapers aren't allowed at Castle Olaf, and the wireless only gets the resort channels," she explained, tucking her hair behind her ears. "As proper news might detract from the festive atmosphere, I suppose. Anyway, Mr. Potter is going a bit spare without his paper, and, well, I drew the short straw this morning."

"Here you are, dear," Aunt Fiona said, and settled a rose-coloured tea cup in front of Lily, along with a small jug of cream and a pot of sugar.

"Thank you, Mrs. –" Lily began, and Remus saw her face flush with awkwardness as Aunt Fiona made a clucking noise in the back of her throat.

"Pssht, none of that, just call me Aunt Fiona, love, everyone else does," she said. "Right, I'll be up front if I'm needed," she added, and disappeared through the door, shouting for someone called Abigail. Remus took another deep drink from his cup and sighed.

"There has to be a Wizarding section of town around here somewhere," she murmured, mostly to herself, but Remus saw her watching his face out of the corner of her eye, and nodded once. She took another sip of tea before scrabbling in her purse and producing a bit of lined paper and a ball-point pen, and sliding them across the table.

"Old habits die hard," she said, absently, as he drew her a rough map, noted down the passcodes she would need, and pushed everything back across the table.

"Thanks, love," she said, settling back into her chair, and stuck her tongue out at him when he rolled his eyes at her. 

"I left them on the beach," she said after a minute, and Remus took another deep drink from his cup. _I don't want to hear this_ , he thought at her, _please, don't tell me_. But he didn't get up and walk away. 

"James was talking about going water-skiing, I think, and Peter has already given himself a sore neck looking at the topless girls – yes, really, and they're bloody everywhere as well – and I last saw Sirius down at the waterline, building a sandcastle that looked remarkably like Hogwarts," she said, and he smiled in spite of himself.

"They miss you, Remus, you should come 'round for a meal, or a drink – or there's a disco on tonight and I've heard rumors it's quite scandalous," she said, chuckling under her breath. "I'll need reinforcements, won't I?" That time he looked away from her, and set his teeth against the urge to just _give in_.

"Right," she said, after another long silence, and drained her tea cup in one gulp, "I'm away. See you later, yeah?" she asked, and he nodded once before gathering up their cups and retreating to the kitchen.


	4. Short Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 4: Midges
> 
> WARNINGS: wanking

"Oi, Padfoot, be a mate and lend us your leathers? Only it's '50s night at the disco," James said, his voice muffled by the cupboard, as Sirius emptied his pockets into the center of his bed.

"Ah, go on," Sirius said, absently, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. He considered his pile of booty for a moment before pushing three broken (but still interesting) shells and a small quantity of slightly damp seaweed towards his pillows.

"Ah-HAH!" James said, and Sirius looked up in time to see a pair of black dragonhide boots come sailing out of the cupboard, followed by a white t-shirt and a slightly worn pair of blue denims. There was some more thumping and then James emerged, his hair oddly flat against his head, except for one thick tendril that was set in a loose curl on his forehead.

"You're going as Blodwynn Bludd?" Peter said, walking out of the loo wearing nothing but a towel, and Sirius ducked as a hex went flying over his head and briefly turned Peter's nose into a tennis ball.

"I'm going as _Brando_ ," James said, and Peter made a noise of baffled disbelief as Sirius shifted three – no, six – tiny gray pebbles towards the footboard. "Muggle film star – though Evans is convinced he's a wizard. Bit barmy about it, actually – she won't be able to resist me in this outfit," he added, and Sirius did not have to turn around to see the triumphant expression on his face.

"No shagging in, on or near my leathers, Potter," he said, trying to sound stern, and scooped up the small pile of multi-coloured beads mixed with Knuts and Sickles and dropped them back into his pocket. 

"What about you, Padfoot?" Peter asked as he walked by, his towel now wrapped around his head like a turban, one hand scratching his stomach.

"'m a bit tired, think I'll stay in," Sirius said, tucking his hair behind his ears and turning his attention to the small pile of paper and parchment scraps in the middle of the bed. Behind him, James made a soft unhappy noise. 

_Form up, now, girls on the left, boys on the right_ , Sirius thought, smiling faintly, and brushed a bit of sand off of the coverlet. He picked two at random and flipped them over.

 _The diving hut, 8 PM_ , scribbled hastily on a piece of pale pink parchment, was from a vaguely pretty girl with straight brown hair and a heavy French accent who had had breakfast with them. Peter had been so distracted by her bosom that he had spilled his tea all over the table.

 _By the pool at Galahad's, 7 PM_ , written neatly on the back of a pool rules card, he had found wedged under his towel after their morning swim, and something about the shape of the vowels made him think it had been left for him by the muscled and gleaming wizard in charge of the pool toys.

"Padfoot –" James said, his voice a warning, and Sirius ignored him in favor of picking two more missives off the bed. He was not in the mood for an argument, and nor was he in the mood for the disco. He really _was_ tired, as well as itchy and covered in sand. Also, as Moony would have put it, he had had enough people for one day. Finally, he had been half-hard and perishing for a snog since the middle of the afternoon and it was starting to get on his nerves.

 _Archery, Target 4, 8:30 PM_ , sparkly blue ink, block printing on heavy vellum, had been deposited in his pocket somewhere between luncheon and two full hours of beach volleyball, and probably came from the blonde witch that Peter had spent several minutes trying (unsuccessfully) to chat up.

 _Horseshoe Pit, 9:30 PM_ , ragged pencil on a bit of yellow parchment torn off the dinner menu, had come tucked under his plate of roast beef and jacket potatoes and he was sure it had come from their sandy-haired waiter, who looked like he had gentle hands.

"Padfoot, what is it? What's the matter?" James asked, one knee on the bed, one hand on Sirius' shoulder, his expression irritated and solicitous at the same time.

"'m fine, just tired, like I said. You go on, I'll come along tomorrow, yeah?" Sirius said, and then he was saved from further questioning by Evans calling out for them to _Come through already, you're worse than Camellia!_ which sent both James and Peter running out the door.

Once he was sure he was alone, he stripped off and took a quick shower and cleaned his teeth before returning to his bed. He threw the papers into the rubbish bin and shifted the remainder of haul to the nightstand before crawling under the covers. The bed was not _quite_ as soft as the one in Gryffindor Tower, but it would do.

For a while he lay still, listening to the room settle around him – the faint _tick tock_ of James' alarm clock, the distant thump and slam of doors down the hall, the occasional burst of intelligible conversation – before sliding his hand between his legs and curling his fingers around his cock with a little sigh of relief.

All he wanted , really, was a little bit of a snog. Nothing elaborate or showy, just some mouth and tongue and fingers curling in his hair. And maybe – and maybe, all right, okay, if it was on offer, he could do with some arms around his waist and hands on his back or under the waistband of his trousers. And if someone wanted to pet his stomach or nuzzle his neck, that would be fine, too. A snog and some petting and then – his cock twitched in his hand, and he gave it a couple of gentle tugs, cupping his balls with his free hand. He licked his lips and moved a hand to rub his stomach, and felt a wave of heat curl around his spine. 

_Mmm_ , he thought, and did it again, trying to focus on the waiter's face, but he kept blurring out in favor of Moony. 

Sirius slid his hand back down to his balls and rolled them between his fingers, trying to push Moony away. But as usual he failed, and a wave of guilt ghosted over him, a reminder that while clearly there were plenty of people available for snogging and petting -- the _problem_ was that all of the people who wanted him for that sort of thing were not Remus, and somehow the idea of doing that with someone who wasn't Remus (still) felt a bit like cheating. 

He had been arguing the point with himself since his first glimpse of the pool toy minder and his magnificent arse – _You're broken up, and besides, he chucked **you** , and six months ago, at that_ against _Because I deserved it_ and also _But, they could be anybody, they could be Death Eaters in disguise. I could go out for a snog and come back Imperious'd._

 _Not worth it_ , he thought, and stroked himself gently, alternating between fingertips and a firm, full-handed grip, his hips jerking upwards, until he felt his balls tighten as the wave of heat crested and he came. Afterwards, he scrabbled on the floor until he found his wand and cleaned himself off with a quick charm before falling asleep in the middle of the bed, still naked.

**

"Ooh, naked – naughty – naked and naughty naughty," James said, from the other side of a ball of light, and Sirius could tell from the giggle in his voice that he was drunk off of his skinny arse. "We didn't interrupt, did we?" James continued, his tone lurching towards concerned. "You can come out, whoever you are," James said to the cupboard, "it's all right, we won't be cross. And I'm legless so I'll be asleep soon and you can – you can – carry on. Don't mind the snoring, yeah?"

"Stop it Prongs, there's no-one there," Sirius said, moving one hand in front of his eyes and using the other to tug the sheet over himself. He could see a pudgy elbow that probably belonged to Peter to the right of the glow, and relaxed a little.

"Oh," James said, lowering his wand, and he almost sounded a little sad. 

"Straws," Peter said, a little too loudly, and there was a long pause.

"Straws," James said, thoughtfully, raising his wand again. Sirius rolled to a sitting position and waited, rubbing at his eyes. This was usually the moment when Moony stepped into translate from Drunk to English and made everything go faster.

"Straws!" James exclaimed, "we have to draw them, Padfoot. Lily and I have had a turn so it's you and – you and Wormtail. For tomorrow. Pettigrew, fetch me the straws!"

"They're in your pocket, you great prat," Peter said, and there was a brief pause followed by a scuffle, and then James sat down heavily on Sirius' bed, and held out a hand clenched tightly around two slender straws. Sirius yanked one out, and when he held it up to show them it was short, James made a pleased noise.

"Cheers, mate," Peter said, and hauled James up and away, both of them singing as they crossed the room to the loo.


	5. Diverse Alarums

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 5: Panic 
> 
> WARNINGS: violence (Sirius is injured by a Death Eater), minor Pureblooded nastiness.

"A Viking boat ride," James said, thoughtfully, squirting ketchup on his eggs, and Sirius saw the butter dish inch forward, as if tugged by an invisible string, and bounce off the salt shaker with a soft _bing_.

"Marcel – the bloke we met at the disco, James, you remember –" Lily began, picking up a scone. Beside her, the tea pot rose in the air and began a slow procession across the table, towards Peter and Mrs. Potter.

"Sparkly jumpsuit and poncey hair," James said, wrinkling his nose, and Peter made an amused noise into his bacon. The tea pot stopped moving and dropped suddenly, but came to a halt just as Sirius reached out to catch it. He glared at Peter, who gave him a puzzled look in return.

"Not any poncier than yours, Potter," Lily said, but her tone was mild. The butter dish lurched forward again, this time dodging slightly to the left. "Anyway, he said he went with some of his mates last week and it was a cracking good show," she added, and the tea pot rose again, but slowly, and glided forward another inch or two.

"Don't like boats," Peter said, absently, and the tea pot dropped again, coming to rest on the table with a soft _thump_ that caused Sirius' tea to splash out of the cup and jarred James' elbow, so that he stabbed his lower lip with his fork.

"Oh, love," Mrs. Potter said, rocking forward, her hazel eyes wide, while James sucked his lip into his mouth and gave Lily a pitiful look. "James, dear, are you all right?"

"'m fine, Mum," James said, loudly, taking another forkful of eggs, while Lily squinted at his mouth and made a sympathetic noise. "Fucks sake, Pettigrew, just ask us to pass it to you," he added, much more softly, and Sirius saw Peter's face darken with irritation. 

"I'm not completely useless, Potter," Peter snapped, Summoning a piece of toast – and that was when Sirius saw the expression of dismayed concentration on Mrs. Potter's face, and his breakfast turned to lead in his stomach. _She's tired, that's all_ , he thought, as the butter slid forward again, and bounced off the creamer. _Had a late night._ He shifted the creamer aside so the butter had a clear path to her plate and looked down at his eggs just long enough to make sure his face was blank. _Doesn't mean anything._

"There's a game of pick-up Quidditch on the beach," Peter said, buttering his toast. "Reckon you'd like that, wouldn't you, James?" he added, giving James a look that was both knowing and encouraging, and Sirius heard Lily make an irritated noise under her breath. "And I'm sure Evans could find something to do – Marcel mentioned about the screen painting –"

"I'm really not all that keen on screen painting, Peter," Lily said, picking up a piece of bacon, "and I can watch Quidditch at home. However, as there are no _Viking boats_ sailing in the Channel –"

"You could, ah, always take Sirius to the Quidditch, yeah? Or go with Mum and Dad to see the puffins," James interrupted, gazing at Lily with what could only be called a soppy expression, and Peter made a huffing noise into his tea and muttered something containing the phrase _sod the bloody puffins_. Next to him, Mrs. Potter poured herself a cup of tea, her hand shaking slightly. 

"But, James, you _promised_ –" Peter began, and Sirius, seeing Lily's pinched expression and the row brewing in James' eyes, sighed softly and heaved himself to his feet. On the other side of the table, two sugar cubes popped out of the bowl on Mrs. Potter's right and rolled, slowly, towards her cup.

"Right, come on, then, Peter, and we'll go into the village," Sirius said, sliding a hand into the pocket of his jeans and curving his fingers around the edge of the queer Muggle paper Lily had handed him before breakfast. He noticed that she had helpfully added a small "x" marked _The Whaler's Lament (Remus)_ next to one of Remus' tidy, draughtsman's lines, but he was determined to ignore it. "See you at tea time, yeah?" he added, as Peter shot James a final mutinous look and stood up.

**

"Can't we stop for a minute, Padfoot, I'm tired, and we've been walking _all morning_ ," Peter said, his voice thinning into a whine. _Because we'd have been splinched for sure if I let **you** Apparate us_ , Sirius thought, and stopped to peer at an odd assortment of items on display in a shop window – there were two pairs of corduroy trousers and a striped shirt hanging up behind piece of clothing covered in shiny things and ruffles draped over a wooden chair, a stack of dishes, a painting of a man on what looked like velvet, a box full of dolls with ragged, messy hair – 

"It's a charity shop, you great prat," Peter said, moving close enough that Sirius could feel the heavy warmth of his body and smell his cologne, overlaid with a layer of sweat. "Remus probably shops in there, those trousers look like they came out of the same ragbag as some of his," he added, wrinkling his nose, and Sirius had to count to ten slowly and in Latin to prevent himself from punching Peter in the face right there in the narrow, winding street.

"Don't dawdle," he said, instead, and set off towards the Wizarding section at a brisk pace. Ten minutes and three incantations later, he found himself on an even narrower, cobblestoned street, fighting the urge to throw Peter in a nearby fountain just to make him _stop whinging_. Unlike Diagon Alley, the street was almost empty of people – their only company was one elderly witch with a toad on a leash and a middle-aged wizard carrying a cauldron full of rusks. Many of the shops were boarded up, and those that were open looked like they might be better suited to Knockturn Alley.

"Bloody hell, we _are_ in the sticks," Peter moaned, as Sirius pushed open the ancient wooden door under the sign that said Island News in peeling black letters, and stepped in to the dimness of the shop. The man behind the counter was tall and suspiciously slender, and when he saw Peter his nose had twitched in an alarming way. 

"Are sirs looking for anything in particular?" he asked, and Sirius heard Peter inhale sharply behind him. "All of our – materials – are collected locally, and we can accommodate special orders," he added, and his lips parted to reveal a row of greenish teeth, and the white tips of what looked an awful lot like fangs.

"Not really, thanks, just, ah, looking for the _Prophet_ ," Sirius said, moving towards the newspaper and magazine rack at the back of the shop. _No wonder Remus is so keen on Defense_ , he thought as a pickled thing in a jar waved a tentacle at him. He was halfway to the back when the wireless came on, and Blodwynn Bludd started singing. 

_Ugh_ , he thought, and crouched down on the floor, dimly aware of Peter walking around behind him, peering into glass bottles and muttering under his breath. He had located the _Prophet_ and settled down to peruse the Quidditch section when he heard the man behind the counter make a startled noise.

"Have sirs found everything they need?" he asked, his voice high and thin, his tone quite similar to the one that Madame Malkin used when there were Death Eaters about, and Sirius stood up, slowly, aware of his heart pounding in his chest. _Where are they?_ he thought, and moved forward, his hand curling around his wand, just as the door creaked open and a suspiciously familiar tall, bulky figure walked in.

"You know the terms, Evinrude," the person – the man – said, and Sirius froze, his suspicions confirmed. _Rodolphus Lestrange_ , he thought, and suddenly the too-empty street outside made sense. He could hear Peter breathing hard on the other side of the shop and felt a surge of disgust. _You have a wand, and can use it_ , he thought. _**You** don't have to worry about the Ministry._

"Do I know you from somewhere? Come _here_ , you silly fat boy, and let me get a better look," Lestrange asked, noticing Peter, and Sirius walked forward, quickly, digging in his pocket for change to pay for the paper and the magazine in his hand. "Ah, and the blood-traitor tearaway as well," he added, sounding obscurely pleased, and Sirius tightened his grip on his wand.

"Just boys, sir, and they were just leaving, sir," Evinrude murmured, and Sirius could see he was wringing his hands. 

"Of course they were," Lestrange said, his lips pulling back in a smile that was all teeth and all false, as Sirius dropped a few coins on the counter and pushed them towards Evinrude. "I don't suppose I could ask you to – carry a message for me?" he asked, pinning Sirius' wrist to the counter.

"Fuck off, Pusbag," Sirius said, and heard a faint crack followed by a white-hot burst of pain in his trapped wrist. After that time seemed to slow down, trapping him by the counter while Peter whimpered and shuffled towards the door, Evinrude made high-pitched keening noises and Lestrange murmured something about _Potter_ and _Mudblood bitch_ and there was more _crack crack crack_ and his entire hand burned as if he had stuck it in the fire. And then they were on the street, Peter cursing inventively, and there was a hand in his pocket and someone said _Remus_ and someone else said _run_ and he did.


	6. Undertow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 6: "All of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea -- whether it is to sail or to watch it -- we are going back from whence we came."
> 
> \--John F. Kennedy [September 1962]
> 
> WARNINGS: A rat in an **very** awkward location. Drinks down, gentle readers.

There was not enough rum in Remus' mug.

There was, actually, probably not enough rum in the entire building, not even in the special refrigerator behind the bar that Uncle Duncan padlocked because he didn't want the staff getting any _ideas_.

Remus took a deep drink anyway and stood up, wincing as tiny, sharp claws sank into tender belly flesh. He took a deep breath and tugged his shirt out of his trousers, so that it billowed over his stomach, and would, hopefully, hide any unfortunate bulges. He heard a muffled squeak and felt a something thin, smooth and tail-like slide over his bollocks and curl tightly around the base of his cock, and decided that there was probably not enough rum in the _world_.

"Room 22 was in a right state just now – something about a _rat_ in the parlour, if you could believe such a thing!" Abigail said, poking her head into the dining room, and Remus arched an eyebrow at her, hoping his expression conveyed _How ridiculous, we have no rats here!_ and not _That's funny, because I have the rat nestled in my pubes!_ Then he heard the front desk bell ring and Abigail pulled her head back.

 _This had **better** be good, Peter_ , Remus thought, immobilizing the warm lump in his groin with one hand and walking gingerly through the kitchen, out of the close and into the back garden. It was pleasantly warm outside, and he could smell the sea on the breeze. After a minute he felt the tail uncurl, followed by a very ticklish moment while the rat scrabbled down his leg and over his ankle, and then Peter was before him, flushed and sweating. Remus crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him.

"Oi, Moony, you've got to help me, Padfoot's hurt," he said, breathing hard. Remus frowned and looked around the garden, not sure if he should be searching for dog or boy, but seeing neither.

 "Oh, for fuck's sake, _finite incantatem_ ," Peter muttered, as he pulled his wand out of his pocket and waved it at a section of the garden wall; the air shimmered and Sirius appeared, slumped down against the wall next to a bag marked _Island News_ , his right arm pressed against his belly, his left curled tightly around his knees. He was whimpering softly, and Remus moved to crouch next to him before he could stop himself. Up close he could see it was bad; Sirius' face was white, his eyes were all pupil and his breath was coming in shocky little gulps. 

_I still hate you_ , he thought, and rested a hand on Sirius' right elbow, letting him get used to the touch before slowly lifting the arm away from his body, revealing swollen flesh and joints hanging at odd angles. Looking at it, Remus felt a traitorous wave of sympathy roll through him. Peter made a hissing noise from somewhere above his head, and then he heard Sirius growling in the back of his throat. Remus scrabbled in his pocket for his wand and pretended not to notice when his other hand drifted up and came to rest on Sirius' shoulder, near the base of his neck. _I am doing this for Peter_ , he thought at Sirius, and for a moment he almost believed it himself.

"Shh, Padfoot, shhh, mate, you'll be all right now, Moony's going to sort you out," Peter whispered, as Remus ran his wand over the injured arm and murmured healing spells. They watched the swelling go down and the bones slide jerkily back into place in silence – it wasn't completely healed, but it would hold up until Peter could get him somewhere with proper medical facilities. _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you_ , Remus chanted to himself, watching sense returning to grey eyes, holding his breath against the sudden urge to gather him close, never mind what Peter would think or (more likely) say to James –

"Cheers, mate," Peter said, settling down on his haunches, "gave me a bit of a turn, like – happened after we met Rodolphus _bloody_ Lestrange, of all people, in the shop when we went to fetch the _Prophet_ ," Peter said, and Remus rocked back on his arse and exhaled sharply just as he saw Sirius' nose wrinkle at the _fetch_. 

"I was actually surprised we hadn't seen him before – he's here for the resort as well, I reckon, because why else would anyone leave London – and did you know the place was staffed by a vampire, by the way?" Peter added, his tone turning accusatory, and Remus had to pretend to wipe his face on his sleeve to hide a smile.

"Wanker," Peter said, but there was laughter in his voice, and Remus could hear Sirius chuckling under his breath. Remus leaned back on his elbows and squinted at Peter; somehow he couldn't imagine _Rodolphus Lestrange_ hanging about playing beach volleyball or dressing up as a cauldron for Come As Your Favorite Celestina Warbeck Song night at the disco. But perhaps Death Eaters did go on holidays after all.

"I have to say this Club Morgana lark is a bit of all right," Peter continued, running a hand through his blond curls, "plenty of top grub, and prime totty as well – and the birds are gagging for it – I've had to disappoint several charming young ladies already, you know, very sad, really." 

Remus snorted and turned to share an eye-roll with Sirius without thinking; there was a long, awkward pause while they looked each other, Remus listening to his heart pounding, Sirius biting his lip, and then the door to the house banged open, and all three of them jumped. Remus stood up first, smoothing his shirt down and brushing grass off of his knees.

"Sorry, but break's over, petal," Aunt Fiona said, "there's a ferry just in – oh, hello there, lads," she added, patting at her hair, when she noticed Sirius and Peter behind him.

"You must be Sirius Black, since James Potter was through yesterday, and I take it this handsome creature is Peter Pettigrew?" she said, giving him a broad smile, and Remus felt rather than saw Peter preening behind him. He could also hear Sirius inhale sharply, and twisted his head just enough to give him a pointed look. He saw a hopeful smile ghost over Sirius' face before he blinked and curled his injured hand against his stomach.

"Pleased to meet you, gentlemen, I'm the Sphinx's Aunt Fiona," she said, dropping a quick curtsey, and Remus made a face at her while she wasn't looking. 

"Cheek," she mildly, and he heard Peter snickering. "Anyway, Remus, love, I haven't seen Sinead yet – if she doesn't turn up you'll have to make do with Abigail – the desk isn't busy just now," she continued, sounding distracted. Remus grimaced and began walking towards the house, already calculating how much rum he was going to need after an afternoon spent trying to decipher Abigail's handwriting and coping with her habit of bursting into tears when punters spoke sharply to her. 

"Sinead? Is she fit?" Peter said, and Remus heard the dull _thud_ that was Sirius slapping him across the back of the head with his good hand.

"Peter and I can stay, as well, to help," Sirius said, his voice surprisingly even, "I mean, we've not got anything else on today, and we're not expected back until tea-time."

 _Oh Merlin, please no, please just fuck off back to the resort, and leave me alone, you need to see a Healer, you great prat_ , Remus thought, and turned around to give Peter his best glare. Peter, for his part, shrugged, and muttered something about _conspiracy_ and _Quidditch_ before subsiding into a mutinous silence. 

"Anyway, Remus, I'm going through to your mum's house, as your gran's pitched up and decided to stay to tea – and probably the night as well, I reckon," she continued, and Remus heard Sirius make a startled noise behind him. 

"Maeve said she's in a right state, spouting rubbish about wizards poking around and doing queer things out on the deserted island, insists on having a word with your father," Fiona continued, and Remus felt his blood run cold. _Not here_ , he thought, the reason for Rodolphus Lestrange's presence finally clear, _please, Merlin, not here. Not in front of my gran_. He felt Sirius' hand settle between his shoulders, warm and solid and steadying, and could not bring himself to pull away.

"Whole thing is a pile of nonsense, I'm sure, but our Celia just sent some new photos of the children and I don't fancy swimming them out to her later," Aunt Fiona said, and dipped forward to kiss Remus on the cheek. "See you later, petal, and mind you don't burn the place down."

"We won't," Sirius and Peter chorused, and then Remus allowed himself to be propelled into the house, and eventually back into the kitchen.


	7. Smoke and Mirrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 7:  
> But I love it, I love this city  
> How slender is the space between love, mercy and ill will  
> I love to live inside its flesh and blood  
> To feel its ailing pulse in its hidden veins
> 
> \--Abd al-Sabūr, Ibhār [1940]  
> tr. from the original Arabic unknown

"Take me through it one more time, Pads," James said, flopping back onto his towel and folding his hands over his stomach.

"The story hasn't changed in the past two days, Prongs," Sirius mumbled, rolling over onto his stomach and shoving his fingers deep into the sand. James shifted one hand behind his head, which raised it just enough to allow him a good view of the water line – Lily was standing next to Peter, her red hair blowing in the breeze – and wiggled his hips until he had created a comfortable hollow in the beach.

"Again, please," he said, dropping a handful of sand in the small of Sirius' back and tapping a bony ridge of spine for emphasis. Sirius twitched and sighed and turned his head so his mouth was no longer pressed into the towel.

"Fine," he muttered, "One more time, then, the events of July 5, 1977: You got up and were sick. I got up and had a wank. Peter got up – "

"Get on with it, Padfoot," James said, and waved his hand around until it connected with Sirius' hip, even if he was obscurely glad that Sirius had recovered enough to be difficult about the whole thing.

"Oi, censorship, I say," Sirius whined, and James hit him again. "Fuck off. Fine. We went to breakfast, which was eggs and sausage. You and Evans were soppy at each other –"

"She was soppy? Really?" James interrupted, momentarily distracted, but Sirius only rolled his eyes.

" – and Peter tried to start a row, so I hauled him off after the _Prophet_ ," he continued, "Then, because he is useless at Apparation, we had to walk for three sodding miles, during which he asked if he could go rat and have me carry him four times, the lazy wee sod, and I saw no less than seven interesting stones -- he wouldn't let me take any of them – and four different kinds of birds. We did not, however, see any other people." Sirius paused for a moment and gave himself a shake that sent sand flying over James' stomach.

"Cloak," James said, absently, checking the water line again, and Sirius made a disbelieving noise.

"Pssht, we'd know – Rabbie would never have been able to keep that a secret, the little show-off. Anyway, we stopped at a Muggle newsagent and he bought some sort of fizzy drink that tasted of arse, and I had a piss in an alley –"

"Merlin," James muttered, squeezing his eyes shut briefly, "and you have _my address_ around your neck."

"Fuck off, I couldn't find a loo," Sirius snapped, before continuing. "We had a bit of a wander about, like, did some Muggle-watching, Peter was an arsehole –"

"What sort of arsehole?" James asked, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Small, pink, kind of furry –" Sirius began, snickering, and curled into a ball when James rolled over and started pounding on him.

"Ow, ow, ow, you fucker, get _off_ ," Sirius said after a while, amid a hail of elbows and knees, and James checked the shoreline one more time before settling back down on the towel. Lily was obscured, but he could see Peter's broad back above the grey-green sea, and that was enough. Peter was probably annoying the piss out of her, and she would doubtless be well cross with him later, but he didn't care. _I look after what's mine_ , he thought, and sighed.

"Anyway, there were a good many Muggles about but I didn't – sense anyone, you know – and then we went off to the Wizarding section of the village, which looked like Knockturn Alley, only more deserted, and dirtier, not that I cared at the time," Sirius said, uncurling again, and James grunted in agreement. "There were two people on the street – one of them was _walking a toad_ , James. A _toad_. On a _leash_ –"

"Mmm, so you said," James murmured, and prodded Sirius in the ribs. "And there was the old chap with the rusks?"

"Yes, and him as well. Right, we who do not walk toads, we went in the shop, where there were more dead things in jars than in Slughorn's office, and I was looking at _Quidditch Monthly_ when Pusbag came in," Sirius said, and James saw him pull his right hand tight against his belly out of the corner of his eye.

"And he didn't recognize Peter, at first," James said. "Didn't seem to be looking for him."

"Didn't act like it," Sirius murmured, "and he's never been good at _stealthy_ , either. Mainly because he's a bit stupid; I'm just surprised Bella hasn't put a permanent silencing charm on him yet," he added, and James snorted.

"But he knew you," James said, and pressed his hand against his bellybutton to make the sick feeling in his stomach go away.

"Mm, clocked the tear-away blood-traitor right away," Sirius said, and stretched, hips arching towards the sky rather pointedly, in James' opinion. "So he asked me to take a message for him, I told him to fuck off, and he muttered something rude about you and Lily and then –"

"—broke your hand in fourteen places, and the shopkeeper threw you out into the street," James finished, and took a deep breath against a surge of rage. He knew the dirty, ugly words Lestrange had _actually_ used because Peter had told him. Peter had also had to sit on him for several minutes to prevent him from Apparating into the shop and eviscerating Evinrude with a spoon. It had been a very small consolation to be able to stand next to his father and a junior Auror while his father tore the man a new arsehole at the top of his lungs in front of all of his neighbors.

"Yes," Sirius said, quietly, "and then I was sick in the fountain, and – it gets a bit blurry after that, mate, sorry – we ran around for a while, I was sick a few more times, and then we ducked down an alley and next thing I know, Peter's found Moony somewhere and told him I needed to be seen to – which was _not_ what I planned _at all_ – "

"What were you going to do, pitch up on his doorstep with flowers and chocolates? Throw rocks at his window and sing him a pretty song?" James asked, rubbing at his face, and Sirius growled at him, which James ignored in favor of waving at him to continue his story.

" _Anyway_ , he sorted me out, more or less, and then his Muggle Auntie turned up, and that was when she mentioned his gran coming to tea at his mum's place and something about wizards pissing about on outlying islands, and then she put us in charge of the place and fucked off," Sirius said, rolling back over onto his stomach, and James dropped two more handfuls of sand on his back.

"I didn't know Peter could manage a Patronus," James said, after a while, and Sirius snorted into the towel and murmured something about _private lessons_. "Almost overset the boat, you know – a bloody great hairy thing coming up out of the water at me, howling about Death Eaters," he added, and Sirius' shoulders shook with muffled laughter.

James made a face at him, but said nothing, because what had made him forget how to breathe two days ago _was_ funny, now, when they were all safe on shore and Sirius was whole and alive. He was still a vaguely embarrassed that Lily had had to slap him before they were able to Apparate into the back garden of the Lament, but he reckoned he could blame it on Peter if he felt like it. 

They had arrived a few seconds after his parents and just in time for the shouting – Moony had cast a hurried _Silencio_ before herding them all into the front parlour and locking the door – and then his father had commandeered the hearth and fire-called London to rage at the Minister. Remus had come back with a trolley full of tea and cakes just as the two junior Aurors arrived, one of whom had gone with Remus to see the Lupins, and one of whom had interrogated Sirius and Peter and then come along for the visit to the shopkeeper. 

Afterwards, his mother had fainted, and James had spent two full hours pinning a shaking, keening Sirius down with his body so the Club Morgana Healer could see to his hand. Once Sirius had finally passed out, James had – for reasons he still couldn't quite explain – borrowed a piece of parchment from Lily and written an account of the disaster and posted it off to Dumbledore. He had not yet received a reply.

"Have to swim for it," Sirius said, softly, "she doesn't often come in."

"Water's cold," James murmured, eyes on the shoreline, and heard a faint _shh shh_ of displaced sand as Sirius sat up.

"Not if you've got fur," Sirius said, before rolling to his feet, tucking his towel under his arm and taking off towards their room.

**

"I don't like it, Maeve," his father said, his voice slightly muffled by the sound of water running in the sink. "He's too old for this sort of rubbish."

There was a pause, and his mother said something about _just a stage_ and _teenagers_ and his father made an irritated noise.

"He's a grown man in the eyes of the Ministry," his father said. _Grown werewolf, you mean_ , Remus thought, swinging his legs around so they hung off the side of the arm chair he was sitting in, and let his head fall back against the dark, heavy fabric. It was the same chair the Auror had sat in two days earlier and sneered at his gran while she perched on the edge of the couch, wrapped in one of his mum's old housedresses, and spilled out her story, her hair grey and matted on her shoulders, her thin, spotted hands clasped tightly in her lap. 

Remus had stood behind the chair and tried to maintain an encouraging expression while she described circles of men chanting in circles of stones, high-pitched wailing ( _and we ken no ban sidhes there_ , she 'd whispered) and fires burning high and bright on remote beaches long after dark, unwavering despite the wind coming off the sea. 

_There's many of us with bairns ashore,_ she had said, at the end, her eyes slipping up to his face and then away again, her lips tightening into a thin line, _and we'd take them awa' with us but they'd nay thrive, ye ken._

The Auror had smiled at her and promised someone would look into it, but Remus saw his quill scratch out _poor command of English_ and _probably a false alarm_ and knew the report was never going to get filed. Something must have shown in his face, because his father, leaning against the doorjamb, had given him a sharp look before escorting the man to the Apparition point behind Remus' shed. 

_You keep animals?_ the man had said; _Something like that_ , his father had replied, and then the man disappeared with a loud _crack!_

Afterwards his gran had taken a cup of tea from his mother and wound her hair into a tight bun and they had sat on the couch next to Aunt Fiona and the pictures from Celia's recent trip to London. _The Big Smoke_ , his mother had said, shortbread crumbs falling into her lap, _Leicester Square was always my favorite – so many people, so many lights! And the plays!_

 _I miss the British Museum_ , his father said, quietly, and Remus had gathered up all of the empty tea cups and dirty plates and retreated to the kitchen to scrub the saucepots until the tightness in his chest had eased.

"Ah well, it's a long summer, yet," his mother said, her voice pulling him back to the present, " Give him time, Rom, he'll come around eventually."


	8. Dispatches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 8: British troops shoot Londonderry rioters --BBC [[08 July, 1971](http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/july/8/newsid_2496000/2496479.stm)]

It was all very puzzling.

Her things – glasses, her wand – were on table next to the bed, but it wasn't her bed she was sleeping in. Elizabeth had been frightened for a moment, imagining – Kidnapping? Unbearable losses? – but the pillow next to her carried the scent of saddle soap and pipe tobacco and a night robe quite like Henry's was draped across the foot of the bed, and her bones resonated with the knowledge that James was alive. 

The room was dim and a little cold, as if someone had been a bit too enthusiastic with a cooling charm, and she could see grey fog out the window, and hear the soft pounding of rain on the roof. There were no trees whipping against the window, as there were at home, which was distracting – where were they, that there were no _trees_?

The longer she was awake the more shadowy shapes resolved themselves into known things – a wardrobe, a dresser, a small settee, Henry's spare walking staff propped against the wall – and she pushed herself up and sat against the headboard, her thumb rubbing over sheets soft and nubbly from over-washing –

"As I said, sir, we've checked and re-checked all of the leads, been over the ground three times in three days, investigated every – bit of rock," someone said, somewhere near by, his voice oddly accented ( _are we still in Britain?_ ), and she turned her head towards the soumd, frowning, baffled at overhearing what sounded like Auror business. 

Henry had always made a point of leaving work _at_ work, of never coming home to her (and now James) smelling of anything but himself, of only telling her stories about the ones he had caught and locked away – though recently she had heard him telling different, darker, stories to James, when he thought they were alone. And James, titchy thing that he was, still, running around under her feet with a blanket-cloak, waving a toy wand and yelling _Stop! I arrest you by order of the Ministry of Magic!_ at Dovecote and Hayrack –

"And the selkie?" That was Henry, that bass rumble, and she felt the knot in her stomach relax. Henry was here, and alive, and – _selkie?_ She curled herself towards his voice, guilt and curiosity swirling together – _selkie!_ She had _heard_ of them, but never actually seen one.

"I'm sorry, sir, I can get you a copy of the final report -- only we've just had an owl from our gov'nor, we're expected in Londonderry as soon as we can find an open Floo – that time of year, you know how it is," a different voice said, slightly out of breath, and she settled against the pillow with a little sigh. Well, Henry would tell her about it when he came in, probably, if he could. 

"Yes, yes, of course, sorry to keep you," Henry muttered, and she could tell he really wasn't sorry at all. There was a pause and the other voices drifted down the corridor – she caught something about _bloody Muggles_ and _I rather like orange, as a colour_ , which didn't make much sense.

"James Henry Potter, you'll come out from under that Cloak this minute," Henry said, his voice sharp with irritation, and she sat up again, one hand sliding out over the coverlet – _James?_

"Bloody hell, Dad," someone said, and it was a voice she _almost_ knew. There was some shuffling and muttering and a soft _thud_ of a body settling against her door.

"You are _dripping_ on the _carpet_ , the pair of you," Henry said, and her hand slid back against her belly. _Pair? Two?_ No, it wasn't possible, she had – the mediwitch – _You will have no more children_. She took a deep breath, and squeezed Henry's pillow. _Two._

"But Dad, we –" said the familiar voice, the crackly tenor that was probably James, a much bigger James than he should be, and then his father interrupted.

"Into the bath, James, before you catch your death of cold. And as for _you_ –" he paused, and then the door popped open and—a boy appeared, tall, broad, dark haired and slouched in odd looking ( _Muggle_ ) clothing. "—go and be seen to by your mother," Henry added, and she got a brief glimpse of a familiar white beard and rosy cheeks before the door shut again with a faint _click_.

 _Two_ , she thought, and fumbled for her wand and a drying spell (he _was_ dripping on the carpet) and wondered _What did we name him?_ He glanced at her, revealing the bruise blooming on his jaw, and that he was handsome, though he didn't particularly favor Henry or herself. Well, no matter, one could always get a surprise, in a Pureblooded line – there were tales of black-haired Weasleys and narrow, angular Crabbes, weren't there? She waved her wand and he disappeared briefly in a puff of steam before shedding his shoes and most of his clothes and crawling on the bed. He was shivering and covered in cuts and scrapes, and – most distressing – almost seemed to be cringing away from her.

"Come here, love," she said, a surge of maternal instinct shoving her confusion aside ( _a child, an injured child, my child?_ ) "come on, it's all right, we'll sort you out now," she added, and he held still while she moved her wand over him, closing scrapes and easing bruises, murmuring soothing things and humming quietly. When she was finished she saw his eyes were sliding shut, tugged him down to rest in her lap, whispered a warming charn and waved the edge of the coverlet over him.

"Found her," he whispered, his voice rough and soft, "way out on the rocks, but we found her, Mama," he added, as she rubbed her hand over his arm, trying to smooth down the remaining goosebumps. "Took her skin off and James had to give her his shirt, so she was decent, like, but –" he yawned, and wriggled a little, "she told us the story, there's –" he yawned again, coughed quietly, and scrubbed a hand at his eyes, "bad – people," he managed, and then he was out, and she was left alone, listening to his steady breathing and the rain, until she was lulled back to sleep.

**

_8th July, 1977_  
Sacred Forest of Kpasse  
Nr. Whydah, Benin 

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Please do excuse the tardiness of my reply to your note of 5th July, inst., as I have been traveling – Whydah is extraordinary, at this time of year, and it has been quite some time since I was last here. I was most distressed to hear of Mr. Black's misadventure at the hands of his cousin and former schoolmate. I am sure the Ministry will do the best they can to see that Mr. Lestrange is brought to account for his behavior._

_Recent events aside, I do hope you have been enjoying your own holiday – I've always enjoyed taking the air on Orkney, and did you know there is the most extraordinary collection of Muggle and Wizarding ruins there? They show the interaction between our races dating back hundreds if not thousands of years. And there is a shop, on the high street in Stromness, that sells the warmest socks I have ever encountered, just the thing for wearing about the Castle on cold winter evenings._

_But – I digress – while I can understand your instinct and enthusiasm for justice, I must urge you to take all due precautions in moving about in the world, as perilous as it is today, and in particular to not take any unnecessary risks with lives and limbs of friends and loved ones. But should you encounter any additional news of relevance, you may feel free to pass it along to me._

_Please give my best to your parents, Miss Evans, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew, and tell Mr. Black I wish him a speedy recovery._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore  
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

**

_8th July, 1977_  
Ballynagalliah  
Londonderry  
N. Ireland 

_Dear Puppy,_

_We are settled here now, at least for a while – Husband is already barking at camera crews and demanding fresh donuts from terrified PA's at every opportunity, and Child is finding new and interesting ways to sneak scaly and furry creatures into my house. I came down to luncheon yesterday and found her serving tea to an actual dormouse, a small hedgehog and her new goldfish (Husband caved) under Everose's watchful eye. Sugalump, the poor thing, had tied her ears in knots trying to tend to the piscine palate, and had to be given a shot of butterbeeer and a quick lie-down._

_As for me I am keeping my head down and my ears open – between the Muggles here and our lot nearly everywhere, there's a good deal to listen to – on that subject, I heard on the party-floo that my least favorite brother-in-law took some time off from his demanding schedule of lounging about Wiltshire and sponging off The Pointy Git to have a bit of a holiday by the North Sea. I can't imagine why, he looks dreaful in a bathing costume, being all pasty and spindly. I'm sure he's crawled back into his usual hole by now, but if he pokes his head out, I'll step on it for you._

_Be careful, love, and be good. Husband says, Go Harpies! and Child sends her chocolate stained love._

_Love,_

_Andromeda_

**  
 **Memo**

 **To:** Rufus Scrimgour, Auror, Head, Department of Magical Law Enforcement  
 **CC:** Niall Richards, Auror, Head, Highlands and Island Div.. Dept. Magical Law Enforcement  
 **From:** Jonas S. Jagger, Junior Auror, Highlands and Island Div.. Dept. Magical Law Enforcement  
 **Date:** 8th July, 1977  
 **Re:** Death Eater Attack, Island News, Whale Street, Stromness, Orkney

 **Incident Date:** 5th July, 1977 at approx. 11 AM GMT

 **Incident Loc.:** _Island News_ , Whale Street, Stromness, Orkney

 **Charges:Alleged Perpetrator: Rodolphus Lestrange** , 20, Heir of the House of Lestrange, gentleman of leisure, known Death Eater and husband of **Bellatrix Lestrange**. Last known residence: Malfoy Manor, nr. Swindon,Wilts., England, Current loc: unknown.

 **Victim: Sirius Black** , 16, 7th Year Gryffindor (rising), son of **Mrs. Walburga** (homemaker) and **Mr. Orion Black** , Lead Cursebreaker, Dark Obj. Division, Gringotts Bank, 12 Grimmauld Place, London; formerly heir of the House of Black, presently ward of **Mrs. Elizabeth** (homemaker) and **Mr. Henry Potter** (Head of MLE, ret.) of Four Seasons House, nr. Plymouth, Devon, England. Current res.: Club Morgana Count Olaf, Stromness, Orkney.

 **Witnesses: Peter Pettigrew** , 17, 7th year Gryffindor (rising), son of **Mrs. Francie** (beautician; Muggle) and **Mr. Paul Pettigrew,** , Dept. of Accidental Magic Rev. Squad, East Ferry Road, Isle of Dogs, London; current res., Club Morgana Count Olaf, Stromness, Orkney; **Mr. Virgil Evinrude** , 50, prop., _Island News_ , Squib, of Narwhale Cottage, Starfish Close, Stromness, Orkney

 **Reported by: Millicent Bagnold** , Minister for Magic, via **Henry Potter** , Head of MLE ret.

 **Confirmed:** Black, Pettigrew, Evinrude

 **Rel. case:** Suspicious Activity Report #3980, submitted 5/7/77

 **Summary of events:** Black and Pettigrew arr. _Island News_ approx. 10:50 GMT, loitered 10 minutes before arr. of Lestrange. Evinrude req. that they depart premesis, Lestrange inq. if Black would carry a message. Black refused (abusive language), Lestrange alleg. escalated conflict resulting in injuries to Black. Evinrude again req. Black and Pettigrew depart premises, escorted them to Whale Street and immediately returned to his post. Lestrange purchased 2 v. Pepper-Up potion and dep. _Island News_ approx. 11 AM GMT. 

Incident reported to Dept. MLE approx. noon by Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic; **Jonas S. Jagger, Jnr. Auror and Finn Wood, Jnr. Auror** , dep. for Stromness approx. 12:40, arr. The Whaler's Lament, The Quay, Stromness, Orkney, o/o by **Mr. and Mrs. Duncan O'Leary** [Muggles with Wizarding relations, no Obliv. req. for staff] approx 12:35 GMT.

Owners not on prem., escorted to parlour by **Remus Lupin** , 17, 7th Year Gryffindor (rising) & Prefect, son of **Mrs. Maeve** (homemaker) and **Mr. Romulus Lupin** , Unspeakable, Dept. of Mysteries, Larentia Cottage, nr. Stromness, Orkney, to meet with Mr. and Mrs. Henry Potter, Head Dept. MLE (ret.). Also present **James Potter** , 17, 7th Year Gryffindor (rising), son of **Mrs. Elizabeth** (homemaker) and **Mr. Henry Potter** (Head of MLE, ret.) of Four Seasons House, nr. Plymouth, Devon, England and Heir of House of Potter, **Lily Evans** , 17, 7th Year Gryffindor & Prefect, daughter of **Mrs. Rose** (primary school teacher; Muggle) and **Mr. George Evans** , chemist; Muggle, The Shambles, nr. Little Snoring, Norfolk, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew (details as noted above). Jagger and Wood informed that there had been add'l report from reliable local source[1] re: suspicious activity, poss. DE involvement. Wood dep. w/ Lupin to visit source, Jagger int. Black and Pettigrew, also initial int. of Evinrude (acc. by Henry Potter, Head, Dept. MLE (ret.)), comments as noted above.

Conducted search of Stromness and all of Mainland, inc. Kirkwall, found no evidence of DE presence. Also searched all local island 2x, found no evidence of any unusual activities. Re-int. Evinrude per request of H. Potter, dyring interview he reported that 2 oz. fluxweed, 2 oz. alihotsy leaves, 2 oz. liver of pufferfish found missing from stores behind counter. Evinrude suggested items stolen by Black or Pettigrew; re-int. and searched both boys on 7th July, items not recovered. 

Conclusion: Isolated incident, prob. family squabble, Auror involvement not necessary. Advise MLE to be alert for appearance of missing potions ingredients (or effects of them) in future.

[1] Source a seal-wife [selkie; magical creature] known as Nairne, rel to Lupins, see above noted Suspicious Activity Report for details. NB: Poor English, elderly, poss. loss of faculties suspected.


	9. Experiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 9: Photograph of English flag hanging outside window of a brick building.

_9th July, 1977_  
Mordred House  
Epsom  
Surrey, England 

_Dear Regulus,_

_Greetings on the 16th anniversary of your birth! Grandmama Irma and I remember the day with great fondness. It was terribly hot and sticky for most of the morning, but your Papa, Great-Uncle Charlus and my cousin (your Grandpapa) Arcturus, myself and a few of our other relations (Yaxleys and Crabbes, mostly) started a smashing game of cricket while the ladies picnicked on the Lawn, and then in the afternoon a cracking great storm blew in and we had to run for cover. I had just handed my Whites to Bluebell when the Floo-call came to tell us that you had joined us. We were all so pleased!_

_We had wanted to join you and your parents for a celebratory meal but I understand from your father that your dear Mother is not well,_

"Rudderfish!" Bellatrix shouted, sounding as if she were quite near by, and Regulus curled himself tighter into the side of the armchair he was sitting in, ducking his head and hoping she wouldn't notice him. She had been on a tear all day, shouting at Rabbie _and_ Rodolphus and terrorizing the Malfoy's yacht-elves. Lucius and Narcissa, who might have put a stop to it, had both spent the day sequestered in a heavily warded room on lowest deck of the _Nimue_ with Severus Snape and a slow-boiling cauldron. 

He heard a faint _pop!_ and then the slightly muffled sound of a yacht-elf talking and went back to his letter.

_and that you have gone to sea with your cousins and other members of our illustrious House to escape the heat of the city. (It has been a long time since I have been abroad on the Nimue; I do hope she is as glorious as I remember.) So I enclose a small token of your Grandmama's and my affection for you, and wish you the smoothest of sailings._

_I have also asked your Papa to find a place for me in your social diary so that we may see each other before you return to school. Perhaps you could indulge an old man and allow me to accompany you to Diagon Alley,_

"Ahoy the _Nimue_!" someone said – a male someone, with a dodgy accent – and Regulus looked up in surprise. Lucius had spent most of dinner the preceding evening rabbiting on about how _private_ and _exclusive_ their mooring was, until Rabbie had pretended to fall asleep from boredom and the meal had descended into an exchange of hexes. He had managed to make Rodolphus burp slugs for a full five minutes before Narcissa rose up and smote them all with a well-timed _Petrificus Totalus_.

"They can't _hear_ you, Jagger, you great plonker," someone else (male, Irish) said, which was followed by faint splashing noises and a dull _clonk_ of wood on wood. Regulus stuffed his letter between the cushion and the chair, curled his hand around the wand in his pocket, and stood up.

"AHOY THE _NIMUE_!" came the first voice again, and Regulus was about to step out on the deck when he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and Lucius appeared, his hair in disarray and Severus Snape in his arms. Snape's eyes were half-closed, and he looked paler than usual. 

"What happened?" Regulus asked, as Lucius stepped around the low coffee table to settle Snape on the couch. Severus made a soft noise that might have been a moan, and then Bellatrix came up the stairs in a swirl of pale green silk dress robes and glossy black hair, followed closely by Narcissa, still in her black brewing smock. 

"PLEASE RESPOND TO HAILING OR WE WILL BEGIN BOARDING," the man outside shouted.

"Bellatrix," Lucius said, rocking back on his heels, one hand still resting on Snape's hip, and she walked out onto the deck. Snape made another small noise and tried to sit up, but Lucius slid his hand onto Snape's chest and held him down. "Be still," he murmured, and Regulus saw his fingers flex once, twice, against Snape's heavy black robes. 

"Barnacle!" Narcissa snapped, shucking off her smock to reveal pale pink linen day robes, and a yacht elf appeared, wearing a blue and white striped dishtowel. "A glass of water, please, and some food," she said, and the elf disappeared with a soft _pop!_

"Is he all right?" Regulus asked, edging closer. Snape had managed to wrap his thin fingers around Lucius' wrist and it _almost_ looked like he was trying to push Lucius off, almost, but not _quite._

"Some of the ingredients were a bit stronger then we expected," Lucius said, the edges of his mouth curving into a small smile, his fingers flexing against Snape's chest a second time. On the other side of the couch, Narcissa's mouth tightened into a thin line. 

"Who are you and what is your business here?" Bellatrix said, her tone surprisingly pleasant, and Regulus heard the men say something about _another attack_ and _Ministry very concerned_ before there was another soft _pop!_ and the yacht-elf was back, a tumbler of water in one hand and a plate of sandwiches in the other. Narcissa motioned for it to set the food down on the coffee table and then dismissed it with a jerk of her chin.

"Master _Malfoy_ , you're _wanted_ at the starboard _rail_ ," Bellatrix sang out, and Lucius pulled a face before standing up.

"Go and make yourself presentable for dinner, Narcissa," he said, smoothing his hair down with one hand. "Regulus, see to Snape, please," he added, and stepped out onto the deck. 

"Did something explode?" Regulus whispered, and Snape blinked at him balefully and gave the water glass a pointed look. Regulus picked it up and handed it to him, and watched while he drained it.

"Need rats," Severus whispered, closed his eyes, and seemed to fall asleep. Regulus took half a sandwich and retreated to his chair, fishing the letter out of its hiding place.

_when you purchase your school supplies. We will have to make a special visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies – I was enormously proud to hear that you have ascended to your rightful place as Seeker on the Slytherin team. I played that position myself for a few years, and I know how important having the proper broom can be!_

_I will close here, as your Grandmama bids me to come to bed, and scolds me for wasting candles – as if she has not lined every corner of our boudoir with finest beeswax!_

_Love,_

_Grandpapa Pollux_

_P.S. Please give my love to my little girls, and tell L. I would be delighted to take luncheon with him at the usual place when all of you have returned to England._

**

"This is _intolerable_ , Maeve," her husband said, hips against the sink, squinting out the kitchen window at their son slowly and methodically throwing milk bottles against the brick wall of his shed. He had been at it ever since he came home from work– she had almost gotten accustomed to the muffled crashing and tinkling. He _had_ done it before, and it wasn't as if he didn't put them all right afterwards. And she could understand the urge to just _break_ things.

"What do you reckon, Rom?" she asked, nudging him out of the way with her elbow, and fishing behind the tap for her gloves. "Perhaps you could shout at him some more about his responsibilities, or I could give him a lecture about finding a nice Pureblooded girl and settling down? I'm sure that will have him reciting _The Faerie Queen_ over tea in no time."

There was a very long silence.

She glanced at her husband, ready to smile to take the sting out of her words, to sigh and murmur something agreeable and say _I'll talk to him later_ – and was surprised to see the anxious misery on his usually impassive face. She understood, she did, she had spent most of morning wanting to grab Remus by his suddenly broad shoulders and _shake_ him, or pour a cup of cold water over his head, _anything_ to make him just _talk_. She had honestly been relieved when Fiona called in a panic and he had disappeared from her kitchen. 

"I won't let him go feral," Rom said, picking up a dish cloth and taking a tumbler from her. "He's worked too hard," he said, and turned away from her.

"Feral?" she repeated, a coldness settling in her stomach, and turned the water off.

"He slept in the shed for two days after he came up from school, and it wasn't even near the moon," Rom said, and she nodded, remembering Rom shoving his side of the duvet back and stalking out into the night, returning later with their sleeping son floating behind him. They had settled him down in his own bed, and after that he had not returned to the shed except for the moon.

"And he won't talk," she murmured, and felt rather than saw Rom's answering nod.

"It happens, sometimes," Rom said, "but there isn't a lot of useful data on preventing it, I checked," he added, and set the glass down on the counter.

"Ravenclaw," she murmured, squeezing his arm, and he snorted, but she saw some of the tension drain out of his face. She turned the water back on and picked up a dish, turning the idea of _feral_ over in her mind. 

"There was another attack today," he said after a while, and she flinched. "Not, ah, his friends again, thank Merlin – Aurors, this time – the Longbottom Heir and his wife, I think I heard."

"Those _are_ his friends, Rom," she said, turning to face her husband. "He's mentioned them before. I thought he might be a bit sweet on Alice, actually," she added, and laughed at the expression on her husband's face. "They're all right?"

"The wireless didn't say," Rom murmured, "but I expect so. They got off a fair few hexes, anyway."

"Good," Maeve said, and handed him a saucepot to put away.

**

9th July, 1977

From: _Maeve and Romulus Lupin_  
To: _Hon. And Mrs. Henry Potter and family & guests _

**YOU'RE INVITED TO TEA!**

At: _Larentia Cottage_

On: _Tuesday, July 12_

From: _6 PM onwards_

Floo address: _Larentia Cottage_


	10. Turning Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: 10: 
> 
> "My mother, who hates thunder storms,  
> Holds up each summer day and shakes  
> It out suspiciously, lest swarms  
> Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there"
> 
> \--Philip Larkin, Mother, Summer, I
> 
> and 11: 
> 
> "Summer afternoon--summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language."
> 
> \--Henry James

Sometimes Orion found it easier not to listen too closely to the conversation when they had company for Sunday lunch. Indeed, it was much more pleasant to see how many runes he could draw on his plate using chunks of roast dipped in gravy while Walburga was icily polite to Angelique Malfoy on the subject of dressmaking and Rigel Lestrange droned on about the repairs he had had to make to the house in Saint-Malo. He had finished his roast and moved on to the mashed potatoes when he felt Cygnus' bony hands squeeze his knee and realized someone had asked him a question.

"Hmm?" he said, lowering his spoon, and Walburga made a sniffing noise that suggested he was going to get a scolding later. 

"I say, old boy, you were miles away," Rigel said, his narrow, vaguely rat-like face creased with amusement; Orion blinked away the memory of Sirius charming the man's food to give him red and green spots during one especially tedious Christmas dinner and arched an eyebrow in response. 

"I was just asking if you might recommend anyone to have a look at the wards on the house – it's been a few years since Papa set them, of course," Rigel said, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly, "and well – the Ministry, you know, and weather – dreadful thunderstorms down there, upsets Noelle terribly – my Rabbie's had a bit of a knock about, of course, since we've been allowed back in, and he's found some weak spots – the entire master bedroom was unprotected, if you can imagine such a thing," he added, and Orion froze.

 _The room. The wards on the room, they must have faded._ Someone had sent something – a spell, a hex, a curse – and _that_ was what had turned his son, his Heir, against him. It seemed – unlikely, impossible, even, he had set and re-set, checked and re-checked everything, but – he squinted, trying to _remember_ , but his mind was unhelpfully blank. The last six months was a blur that started with the grief-stricken look on youngest son's face at being told _Your brother died in the night, and you are the Heir now_ and ended with the Minister for Magic's expression that had shifted slowly from concerned dismay at having to tell him his eldest son had been injured to outright disgust when he replied _My only son is at sea with his cousins_.

He put his spoon down on his plate very carefully and stood up, shaking his robes loose from his body out of habit. He noted the fury in Walburga's eyes – she was always so _angry_ , these days – and Abraxas Malfoy's puzzled expression before moving away from the table, down the hall, up the stairs and into the room, his wand already in his hand.

He straightened the rumpled rug (still bloodstained, he noticed) and made the bed before drawing a thin line of blue light down the center of the wall that faced the street. He stood and watched it slide around the room, vaguely aware of chittering from the curtains that suggested there might be doxies residence. The line had migrated to the ceiling when he heard footsteps in the hallway, and he turned around to see Cygnus standing behind him, his hands clasped over his stomach, his long face impassive.

"Any joy?" Cygnus said, mildly, and Orion sat down on the bed, hard, and dropped his wand in his lap, suddenly and horribly aware that there was absolutely nothing wrong the wards, and there never had been. He closed his eyes and tried not to see either of his son's faces. _I have only one child!_ he thought, and pressed a hand against the ache blooming in his chest. He heard the faint _swish_ of robes over wood and then the mattress dipped, and he felt Cygnus' hand come to rest between his shoulder blades.

"I tested everything in the house," Cygnus said after a while, moving his hand back to his lap, and Orion opened his eyes to see that the line of blue light had migrated to the floor. "Every piece of furniture, the sheets, anything she might have eaten, and there was – nothing that wasn't supposed to be there," he continued. "Druella threatened to send me to St. Mungos if I didn't stop." 

Orion swallowed carefully, pressed the tips of his fingers against the ridges of his eyes, and tried to think of something to say to the rest of the guests – his behavior could no longer reasonably be put down to grief. It was impossible; he was going to have to go downstairs and apologize to _Rigel Lestrange_ and _Abraxas Malfoy_ , both of whom he generally felt should be made to enter the house through the tradesman's entrance.

"I had an owl from Narcissa this morning," Cygnus continued, standing up as the blue light faded. "She said they are having a glorious cruise and that being at sea seemed to quite agree with Regulus."

"Good," Orion said, standing up slowly. He had sent Regulus away as much for his own health as to avoid Walburga's rages – he had come off the Hogwarts Express with enormous purple bags under his eyes, his clothes hanging off his too-thin shoulders, and oddly restless. 

"She also asked me to collect a few things for her from Highgate," Cygnus continued, moving towards the door. "Perhaps you'd like to join me?"

"Of course," Orion murmured, and closed the door behind them with a faint _click_.

**

It was a beautiful summer afternoon, and Remus was still alive. 

Unlike the three half-blood witches killed outside of York just that morning, he could feel the sunlight, warm against his skin, and the grass, soft and a little tickly under his fingers. He could hear the standing stones he was leaning against singing wordless songs of warmth, praise, and joy in the back of his mind, and he had been able to taste the tangy battered and fried fish and vinegary chips that his mother had fed him until his belly ached pleasantly with fullness. 

When Aunt Fiona had rung the house to say Sinead had, for once, not missed her ferry and he had the afternoon off, he had left the house not intending to come to the circle, but he had found himself there anyway. In the end he decided it was not so bad; the ocean was tempting but he did not want to be wet, and thinking about the village bookshop reminded him he was weary of the smell of ink on paper, and of the sound of human voices. 

He closed his eyes against the sun, rested his head against the rough stone and listened to the sea birds calling to each other for a while, content to drift and half-dream of strange, beautiful things. There were circles and circles of women dancing, their tiny feet stamping the earth flat, oddly angled glimpses of long, slim legs beneath dark skirts, couples kissing and touching as magic built and flared around them, and then a series of too-close portraits, an eye here, a nose there, warm breath and something hairy and prickly ghosting over his skin, the suggestion of a warm, rough tongue – 

At that he opened his eyes, startled, and made a small noise of surprise at the big black dog that was, in fact, licking his hand. The dog looked up at him, silver eyes ( _Sirius_ ) wary, and he exhaled slowly. 

There was a brief silence, and then the dog pinned his ears back and bowed low, making small huffy barking noises and whining in the back of his throat. _Stop_ , he thought _just stop_ , but the dog continued to huff and whine until he reached out and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and gave him a shake – at which point he lay down and put his head in Remus' lap. 

Remus sighed and curled his fingers into the rough fur, not sure if he was vaguely comforted or obscurely annoyed. After a minute he gave one floppy ear a sharp tug, and the dog raised his head, the great brows furrowed. Remus arched one eyebrow and the dog turned to look to the right, towards the sea, before prodding Remus' chest with his nose and wriggling closer.

 _You aren't forgiven_ , Remus thought, but he scratched between the massive shoulders anyway, until his eyes slid shut once more.


	11. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 12: [ Summer Pudding, Antony Worral Thompson](http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/summerpudding_72319)

"Potter, party of six, six o'clock?" said the witch behind the counter, flicking her eyes over the four of them, lingering for a while, as everyone did, on Sirius. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sirius give her a tiny little smile, no teeth, which Peter knew meant _Stop staring at me_ but usually made the girls go all doolally. And Sirius always acted like it was such a _problem_.

 _Wanker_ , Peter thought, and stretched up onto his toes to scan the Floo Hall for famous people. He saw a couple of minor Ministry officials stepping into a small and plain black fireplace and someone that _might_ have been Stubby Boardman follow a blond man under a wooden mantle with roses carved in it before he felt Lily's hand pushing him forward, under the sign marked _Local Travel Only_ and heard James shout _Larentia Cottage!_ from the middle of a burst of green light.

He heard someone (possibly Sirius) shriek as the world tilted sideways, and then everything got a bit blurry as they hurtled through the brick-lined tunnels. He counted eight open hearths (one with a small sign that said _No Soliciting on Pain of Death!_ ) before they made a sudden right turn and shot out onto the Lupin's hearth rug in a tangle of arms and legs. 

Peter opened his eyes and was vaguely relieved to discover that Remus' house was just as dreary as he had thought it would be, from the ugly tartan couch covered in lace doilies to the battered television and cock-eyed antennae to the several different Coronation plates mounted high on the wall. On the whole it reminded him a bit of his Muggle gran's house, or perhaps her neighbors – gray and a little sad, and always smelling of cabbage soup – the kind of place his mother would have dismissed as common, and that he was always eager to get away from as soon as possible.

He was contemplating ways to get out of the evening early – fake a stomachache? Claim to have received an urgent message from one of the Prewitts demanding his presence, and possibly James', elsewhere and immediately? – when Remus appeared out of the gloom, his face blank but his eyes reassuringly brown, and herded them all into the kitchen.

**

The dinner that followed, was, Peter thought, possibly the most painfully tedious event he had ever had to endure, and that was after six years of Binns. (And Binns at least told the odd story about dragons.) 

It started badly, when Lily gently but firmly chivvied Peter out of his regular seat next to James and banished him to the far end of the table between Sirius and Remus – that is, if the Lupin's table could be said to have a far end, which it really didn't – and went downhill from there. The mashed potatoes were lumpy, the gravy was far too thick, and his lambchop was far too pink and juicy in the middle when he cut it open – he was sure he'd be up all night with a bad stomach. The meals at Club Morgana might be a bit dull but at least it was all proper British cooking.

And then, to add insult to injury, Mr. Potter started telling very long stories – the ones about marching across Europe in the snow and some French wizard who'd got a bit big for his britches – that Peter was sure nearly everyone had heard already, because Mr. Potter told them _all the time_ , even to strangers in queues – and he was forced to nod and smile and make encouraging noises. The Lupins, he noticed, were hanging on every word, which probably meant they would be here all _night_ , when there were fit Italian witches waiting to be snogged at the disco.

He was giving serious thought to dropping his knife on his foot – well, perhaps on a toe – just so they would _have_ to leave, when he felt something cold, wet and slightly tickly press against his ankle. He made a small noise – all right, perhaps it was a _loud_ small noise – and looked down into a pair of small dark eyes framed by pale brown fur. _Dog_ , he thought, and then _run_ , deep in the part of him that was rat. He took a deep breath to slow his suddenly racing pulse and turned to glare at Remus, because he should have _said_ , a bloke likes to be _warned_ –

"Oh, Peter, I am sorry – come away, Eliza," Mrs. Lupin said, standing up and moving around the table, her tone reproachful, "you know the rules, no begging – come on, love, your dinner's by the stove." The dog made a huffing noise and trotted away, though Peter was sure he saw a veiled threat in her eyes even as she settled down to her kibble.

"We're minding her for the neighbors," Mr. Lupin said, "they took off for the fjords yesterday, for two weeks," he added, and then Mr. Potter was off again, moving the salt shaker, pepper pot and gravy boat into formation, his hands pale and spotted under the harsh kitchen light.

**

Later – far too much later, in Peter's opinion – Mrs. Lupin seemed to take pity on them and filled five bowls with a sort of bready, fruity pudding covered in fresh whipped cream ( _straight from the cow this morning!_ , she said, as if that was even hygienic)– and shoo'd them into the living room. Peter settled himself on the couch next to Lily and Remus and watched James and Sirius stalk around the room, taking breaks between bites of pudding to peer at the (unmoving) paintings on the wall and poke at the 'phone. After a while they settled down – James in the arm chair, Sirius on the floor – and Remus got up and turned the television on, which caused both of them to sit bolt upright in surprise. 

"The Muggles, are they trapped in there, Moony?" Sirius said, leaning forward, and James made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat.

"No, Sirius, they aren't trapped," Lily said, a thread of laughter in her voice, and they both relaxed. 

After that it was quiet, save for the noise of the television – so quiet that Peter could hear Lily snoring and was almost asleep himself when he felt a warmth near his knees and heard Remus make a low noise in the back of his throat that was almost a growl.

He opened one eye in time to see Remus slide off the couch and pin Sirius' shoulders against the carpet in one smooth move; Sirius reached up and yanked on his hair and then the fight was on – they rolled twice across the floor, elbows and fists flying, and then, just as James raised his wand – to do what, Peter had no idea – Sirius reared up and _licked_ Remus on the _mouth_.

To Peter's surprise, instead of punching him, Remus went very still for a moment, and then lowered his head rubbed his face against Sirius' and stuck his head in the crook of his neck. After a minute Sirius made a startled noise, as if perhaps Remus had bitten him, and Remus rolled off and away, breathing hard.

" _What_ was _that_?" James asked, but before either of them could answer, the door popped open and the Potters came through, talking about early tour reservations, and hustled them all through the Floo.


	12. Small Victories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 13: Covent Garden at 11.15 p.m. Torrents of heavy summer rain. Cab whistles blowing frantically in all directions. Pedestrians running for shelter into the market and under the portico of St. Paul's Church, where there are already several people, among them a lady and her daughter in evening dress. They are all peering out gloomily at the rain, except one man with his back turned to the rest, who seems wholly preoccupied with a notebook in which he is writing busily.
> 
> \--Bernard Shaw, Pygmalion ACT I [1916]
> 
> Warnings: Snape succeeds at making an Inferious rat.

_13th July, 1977_

_From: Francois Delacroix  
12, Rue de Morte  
Port-au-Prince, Haiti_

_To: Lucius Malfoy  
At sea  
Nimue_

 

5 kg. rats, brown, deceased (1 galleon)

5 kg. rats, brown, alive (2 galleons)

12 oz., puppy tails (fresh) (1 galleon)

12 oz., snails (imp.; fresh) (3 galleons)

1 kg., fresh lemons (1 galleon, 5 knuts)

3 bottles rum (5 galleons)

6 oz. valerian (5 knuts)

6 oz. sopophorous beans (2 galleons)

12 oz. marsh rosemary (imp.) (3 galleons)

12 oz. cinnamon (2 galleons)

12 oz. wintergreen (imp.) (3 galleons) 

Total: 24 galleons

_Payment on account_

 

**

_12th July, 1977  
Arthur's Rest  
Colchester, England_

_Dear Petal,_

_I was most pleased to receive your last letter; Mother and I continue to be well, and thanks to your earlier advice, the stinging nettles are now coming on famously. This will be my last letter for while, as we are away to Blackpool tomorrow morning_

"Don't _touch_ , Rabastan," Severus snapped, and she felt Lucius' arms tighten with irritation, squeezing her against his chest. She made a soft noise of protest before turning just enough to look at Severus, who was kneeling on the deck in front of a large cauldron, glaring at Rabbie like an especially ferocious mother hen. _He has the nose for it_ , she thought, and had to hide a smile in a yawn. 

"Fuck off, Snape, just wanted a bit of a look, all right," Rabbie muttered, settling himself on the deck and tucking his brown hair behind his ears. Severus made a disbelieving noise, untied the rawhide strings of one of the canvas sacks by his knees and tugged out a dead rat.

"What's _in_ it, anyway? Smells worse than Hagrid after a storm," Regulus said, from behind a piece of parchment that was an especially indecorous shade of fuschia, a thread of amusement in his voice, and Rabbie made a noise of agreement. Severus ignored them in favor of pulling out another rat.

Narcissa sighed; it was true, no matter what they added – even freesia – the potion always smelled vaguely of rotting fish. She watched Severus lay the rats out in neat lines for a minute, warmed by the precise movements of his hands and the way he bit his lip when he thought no-one was looking, before snuggling up to Lucius and turning back to her letter.

_for at least a fortnight and possibly the rest of the summer, to do our bit with your Great-Aunt Dorea. Great Aunt Cassie has been with her this past little while, and apparently it is very rough going – the end may finally be near. It is a small consolation to me that the house is in town and contains a half-decent (and shamefully underused!) kitchen garden – however, your mother has promised me at least one evening at the Piers, and with that I must be content._

_On a related note, I have enclosed the items you requested from Highgate; Great-Grandfather Phineas was pleased to offer his assistance to your cause, as was your Great Aunt Belvina, though they have both requested a full report on the project as soon as you can manage. I have moved their portraits_

"That's right, precious, come to Mummy," Bellatrix said, an odd note of wonder in her voice, and Narcissa looked up to see her sister crouched on the floor, her dressing gown hanging open to reveal a glimpse of pale skin and dark hair, holding her hand out to a rat. "Come on, love, you can manage," Bellatrix said, and wiggled her fingers.

 _Must be one of the live ones_ , Narcissa thought, as the animal lurched forward, and then she saw the small, white things moving around its mouth; Lucius patted her arm and she realized she must have made a noise. 

"Oi, Severus, you wanker, let us have a go," Rabbie said, on the other side of the room, and she took a deep, steadying breath against the urge to rip herself away from Lucius and run for the sun deck, before turning back to her letter.

_into the Great Hall. I also took the liberty of expanding your usual monthly order at Covent Garden to include a few items that your Aunt Walburga thought might be useful._

_Speaking of my dear sister, she and Uncle Orion send their regards, as do all of your grandparents. Orion was especially pleased that the sea air agrees with Regulus and sends his most sincere thanks for your hospitality._

_My best to your sister and cousins,_

_Love,_

_Father_

_p.s. If the motor is still making an odd noise when you make the Cape Verde Islands, tell Lucius to put in to Praia and send for Sebastian._

**

"Oi, Remus, do you want any help with the washing-up, like?" Abigail asked, crossing her arms under her firm, round breasts, so that the lacey edges of her shift strained to cover them. Remus sighed and shook his head, and tried to ignore the hurt expression on her face. _I want to take this mer-fucking ruffled shirt off,_ he thought. _I want a nice hot shower and a cup of cocoa with tiny marshmallows. I want a wank, and then I want to go to sleep._

"You're sure? I'm done for the night, it's no trouble," she said, her voice soft and breathy, and suddenly she had wriggled under his arm and his nose was full of her perfume ( _lemon honey lavender_ ) and a small traitorous part of him that had _not_ been thinking about Sirius all day sat up and asked _Why not?_ She tilted her head back and smiled at him, and then he felt her fingers slide under his shirt and gasped. Her hands were so small, and so _warm_ , and no-one had touched him in so _long_ –

"Sorry, but is the kitchen still open?" and Remus recognized the tone immediately, it was the same one Sirius used when he was talking to (or about) Regulus – a little angry, a little sad, a little bit resigned. _Bloody hell, where did you come from?_ he thought, around a spasm of guilt ( _we are not together!_ ) and eased away from Abigail before turning to look at Sirius, who was, bizarrely, dressed like a vicar. He was also soaking wet, and Remus could see he was shivering, which made him feel even guiltier.

"Sorry," Sirius said again, looking down at the floor. "I can come back tomorrow," he added, and something in his voice made Remus' heart clench in a deeply annoying way. 

"Well, you're here now, may as well put the kettle on – I'll leave you to it," Abigail said, stiffly, and walked past Sirius with her chin held high. Remus was not sure if he were pleased or irritated when he saw a brief flash of something that might have been jealousy move across Sirius' face.

"I really am sorry, she's, ah, quite fit," Sirius said, after a while, and Remus rolled his eyes and cast a quick drying charm before handing him a steaming cup of tea.

"I just – " Sirius began, and paused for a deep breath. Remus settled himself against the edge of the sink gave Sirius a pointed look over the rim of his mug.

"We were meant to go to the disco – it's tarts and vicars night," he said, smiling faintly, and Remus briefly wondered what James had found to wear as a tart costume, "but then Mama had a bit of a funny turn and then Dad and James went spare and I – " he stopped again and took a deep drink of his tea, and Remus set his mug down on the sideboard. 

"Anyway, they're fine now, and she's fine now," Sirius said, after a while, "the mediwizards think she just got hit by a stray Confundus, which is just ridiculous, and I thought, maybe, if I told you – I mean you probably still hate me but – you're the best at defense – and Lily wouldn't let James come –" he broke off suddenly, and took another deep drink of his tea. 

Remus crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor for a while, trying to _think_ , and then he looked up and nodded, once, and saw Sirius' whole body relax. 

"Thanks, Moony," he said, softly, and then to Remus' surprise, he moved to stand next to the sink full of dirty dishes, unbuttoning his sleeves as he walked around the table.

"I can tell you about it while we sort this out, yeah, and then – maybe I can – see you home?" he asked, tilting his head to one side, and Remus rolled his eyes again, but he didn't argue.


	13. Ill Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts 14: painting, H.S. Tuke, Two Boys on a Beach (a study of bright sunlight)
> 
> and
> 
> 15: unfortunate tans & sunburns

_14th July, 1977_  
Nimue  
At Sea 

_Dear Augustus,_

_8 PM, Cobbs Quay, in one week; bring Crabbe and Goyle, and don't be late._

_Lucius Malfoy_

_P.S. My most sincere congratulations on your new post; the Department of Mysteries is fortunate indeed to have attracted someone of your particular talents._

**

_TWEEEEET!_

Lily rolled over, pulled her pillow over her head, and burrowed further under the covers. 

_TWEEET! TWEEET!_

"Form up, Gryffindor! Brooms out!" James said, his voice very close, and she pulled the coverlet over her shoulders. Of all the times he had to pick to turn into a Prewett –

_TWEEEEEEEET!_

"I SAID FORM UP, BROOMS OUT, GRYFFINDOR, YOU LAZY SODS!" James roared, a touch of _Sonorous_ in his voice, followed by doors opening and closing, and the odd _shut it!_ and _go back to bed, you wanker!_ floating down the hall. She curled up on her side and considered trying to go back to sleep – it was early, she was tired, they were on _holiday_ – but in the end she rolled out of bed and into her dressing-gown, extracted her broom from the bottom of her trunk, and followed the red sparks from the tip of her wand to a broad, empty swath of beach.

By the time she picked her away over the shell-strewn sand, Peter and Sirius were already in the air, Peter hovering a foot above James' head, his lips pressed tightly together, his sunburned cheeks already shiny with exertion, Sirius doing lazy loops out over the ocean. 

"Glad you could join us, Evans," James said, his voice dry, tight and more like Longbottom's than she had ever heard before, and Peter made a startled noise and shot up three feet. 

"Right, rescue drill to start – broom down, Evans, go and stand just there, please," he added waving at a spot near the water, and she had just turned back to face James when an arm curled around her waist and the ground fell away.

"Padfoot!" James bellowed, hands on his hips, but – _odd_ – he didn't give chase.

"Hold still, Peter'll never catch you and he'll skin me if you fall off," Sirius hissed, but he stopped the broom long enough for her to seat herself properly before rocketing upwards.

"Black, what –" she began, twisting to face him.

"It wasn't a confundus, and it wasn't Dark magic, either," Sirius said, "she's ill – really ill," he added, his grey eyes dark, but his voice quite steady, and suddenly the air was very cold. She looked down at James again, now watching Peter attempt to hang off his broom by his knees, and tightened her grip on the wood before turning back to Sirius' solemn face. 

"Remus recognized the symptoms," he said, softly, and looked away from her, out over the ocean. "His nana had it, I think." 

"Oh?" she said, though what she really wanted to say was _He's talking again?_ Or possibly _So did the two of you sort yourselves out?_ Something about the tightness around Sirius' eyes suggested no progress had been made, and she kept quiet.

"His dad's mum," Sirius murmured, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind his ears. _The one who got sick during Second Year and died during Third Year_ , Lily thought, and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. _She didn't know him at the end. Oh, James._

"He made me go through everything for his father to be sure, which is why I was back so late," he added, turning back to look at her again.

"Did you tell Mr. Potter?" she asked, already making a list of people who would have to be informed – _McGonagall, Dumbledore, Alice and Longbottom, the Prewetts, Shacklebolt, Jordan?_

"No," Sirius said, "might be wrong, you know. But we'll see she goes to St. Mungo's when we get home. Throw a sickie if we have to," he added, and his lips almost curved up into a smile. 

"Right, yes, of course," she said, and turned around to face front again, as Sirius brought them down to the sand.


	14. Encouraging Signs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 16 voxtrot, _fast asleep_ and 17: "It will not always be summer; build barns." --Hesiod [ca. 8th century BC]

"Two _hours_ , Prongs," Peter said, as he kicked his shoes off. "He was in there when I left to meet Cecile and he's _still_ there," he added, his voice muffled by his shirt.

"So chuck him out," James muttered, but he sat up anyway, and took his glasses and his wand when Peter handed them to him, because removing Sirius from awkward locations at unholy hours of the morning had been _his_ job for the last six months. 

"G'luck, mate," Peter said, and then James heard his bed creaking as he lay down. _Cheers_ , James thought, navigating shoals of clothing and banks of Sirius' ever-growing piles of shells until he found himself in front of the bathroom door. 

_Form up, Gryffindor_ , James thought, curling one hand around the door knob and letting his head fall forward to rest against the smooth wood. He stood like that for a moment, listening, but all he could hear was a faint scraping ( _wand on tile_ ) and the occasional papery crackle. It didn't _sound_ like anything was wrong but – _two hours_ , he reminded himself, and pushed the door open. 

"'m fine, Prongs," Sirius said, not looking up from the book open on his knees. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the sink, wearing an old pair of James' own pyjama bottoms and a faded Harpies t-shirt that might have been Remus', his hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. There was a cup of tea perched on top of the small stack of books by his right knee, and a couple of crumpled crisps packets were peeking out from beside the cistern. 

"N.E.W.T.S. aren't until next spring, mate," James said, hoping his tone sounded light, and sat down by the tub. The bathroom wasn't as large as the ones at Hogwarts, but it was comfortable enough.

"Couldn't sleep," Sirius said, absently, "didn't want to wake the rest of you. Moony had a word with his grandfather Lupin, and, ah, sent Rosamund with these," he added, waving one hand at the books, and turning a page with the other. 

"Oh?" James said, pleased that his voice was steady, and rolled forward for a closer look. Most of the titles were in German ( _Dad will like **that** )_ but one or two were in Latin, and the one Sirius was reading looked like it was in French.

"He sent a shopping list as well, there's some potions that might help – Evans can sort them out for you, I reckon," Sirius murmured, as James settled back against the tub and pulled his knees up to his chest. After a minute, Sirius picked up his cup of tea and held it out, and James took it, grateful for the warmth and the distraction.

"He mentioned he might come 'round next week," Sirius said after a while, and James set the cup down carefully. "If it's all right, that is, you know – doesn't want to intrude," he continued, and James saw his mouth twitch faintly, somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

"Daft bugger," James said, and that did get a smile – a tiny one, but it was there, and he felt something unclench in his stomach. "Did he say when he was coming through?"

"Thursday, maybe, make a long weekend of it," Sirius said, his lips twitching again. _Your birthday_ , James thought, and almost laughed out loud with relief, _he's coming for your birthday. He's forgiven you. Oh, thank Merlin._

"Did you –" he began, and stopped when Sirius shook his head. "Right, I'll sort it out in the morning. Give us one of those, then," he added, and Sirius picked the top one off the stack and handed it over. 

Sometime later the heavy black type started to blur, and James closed the book, secured his glasses to the rim of the tub with a minor sticking charm, and lay down to sleep. The floor was hard and the rug tickled his nose, but he didn't particularly care, because it was all sorted out now –

"Go to bed, Prongs," Sirius said, softly, and he shook his head and curled his knees against his chest. After another minute he heard someone sigh and felt magic wash over him, and then he was back in bed ( _soft_ ) and there was something enormous and furry in there with him ( _dog_ ) and he slept. 

**

_17th July, 1977  
Malfoy Manor  
Wiltshire  
England_

_Dear Lucius,_

_Your mother and I were most pleased to hear of the success of your current undertakings, and we look forward to your impending return to the Manor. Between the disasterous state of the barns and the far pastures (I have had to fire the steward for incompetence), the ongoing impudence of the Ministry and an endless stream of visitors I have hardly had a moment to myself._

_We currently have several dozen Yaxleys decorating the back garden, a brace of Crabbes in the drawing room and a small nest of Rookwoods in the parlour, and I am informed we should expect some Derricks, Boles and Warringtons next week – all breeding pairs,_

" _No_ , Bella," Narcissa said, loudly and quite firmly, and Lucius looked up long enough to determine that they really _were_ still alone in their cabin before fishing around under the coverlet until he found his wife's tiny hand. 

"Leithfold," Narcissa murmured, more softly, and he swiped his thumb over her wrist. "Lavender, dill, thistle and – " she made a sniffing noise " _apples_ ," she added, sounding surprised.

"Yes, dear," he murmured, and felt the bed dip as she wriggled in her sleep. He leaned over and kissed her cheek gently, hoping she wouldn't wake and ask what he thought he was doing (she could be so _hard_ , sometimes) but she just made a faint huffing noise and murmured something unintelligible.

_which of course brings me to the next item of business – several parcels have arrived for your dear wife. I have left them in the study as you instructed, except for the one from Mother Macree's Useful Notions, which I have enclosed – I thought perhaps she might like a treat, or a bit of encouragement?_

Lucius made a face at the parchment – they had just had a row about the use of conception charms that very morning, and he had barely escaped intact – and unwrapped the lumpy bundle in his lap, which turned out to be a large clock, shaped like a baby's head, with a small silver cradle at the center. He tapped it with his wand and it shimmered briefly, and then the narrow silver hands moved to point at _Quite Late_ (a sleepy looking moon) and _Precious is Sleeping_ (a kitten with it's tail over it's nose).

He tapped the clock again and the kitten woke up and gave him a horrified look before morphing into a tiny Hungarian Horntail. _That's much better_ , he thought, and set the clock on the bedside table.

_Arthur's Rest have at long last departed for Blackpool (the old biddy is expected to pop her clogs any day now) so I am relieved of the duty of entertaining Cygnus (all he wants to talk about is flowering plants and timed brewing, terribly tedious), but Grimmauld Place remain in town, and seem to have recovered from their late indisposition. Walburga has even been so kind as to offer us the use of her home for meetings later this month._

_Finally, I have spoken to Rookwood and the Rosiers and I will, of course, see to that they have everything they require. My love to Narcissa, and my best wishes for a continued bon voyage to all aboard._

_Love,_

_Father_


	15. Making Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts 18: world kissing day and 19: "Write about winter in the summer. Describe Norway as Ibsen did, from a desk in Italy; describe Dublin as James Joyce did, from a desk in Paris. Willa Cather wrote her prairie novels in New York City; Mark Twain wrote Huckleberry Finn in Hartford, Connecticut. Recently, scholars learned that Walt Whitman rarely left his room." --Annie Dillard, The Writing Life [1989]
> 
> Aloisemil Syndrome is named for Alois Alzheimer and Emil Kraepelin, who first identified and discovered the [Muggle version of the disease](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alzheimers) in 1906.

_18th July, 1977_  
Near the World's End  
Camden Town  
London 

_Dear Lily,_

_Yes, I am still at the Ministry – I've another fortnight of arse-kissing and tea-cart hauling and then Mum and Brendan will be along to bring me to Brighton. It isn't so bad, really, I've met some terribly interesting people and learned all of the places Alastor Moody keeps his firewhisky. Also, Gideon Prewett has smiled at me twice – I got dimple both times! I see Alice a fair bit as well, and she sends her love. (Longbottom sends an arched eyebrow, which I suppose is better than nothing.)_

_I am still in the titchy flat near the pub, which has got a bit better since I wrote last – now I only want to hex Freda out the window every **other** day. We had one girl move out (which was all right, she whinged about the washing-up and smelled a bit of cabbage) and I made the mistake of letting Camellia do the interviewing for the new girl, and she's gone and stuck us with Lucille Avignon, who half-Veela (and also French, but that I don't mind). Of course there are men everywhere, she even collected a few Muggles last week. And of course it was muggins here who had to prize them off the walls, make them tea and send them on their way._

_Though I have to say one of them was quite cute – Finnegan, he said his name was, he's working in a pub in SoHo for the summer. On the subject of men, I expect a full report on the Potter situation by return post, you wicked girl. I'm especially keen on a detailed explanation of how you accidentally snog someone. Also Perkins wants to know is Black still moping, and if so can you wangle her an invitation to come and cheer him up? She swears she has been practicing her Silencing charms. (Not that it seems to help, I have to say.)_

_In other news, there was a bit of a stramash at St. Mungo's this morning – people running about and shrieking about bodies gone missing, apparently, and two guards not at their posts. I tried to get more details out of Shacklebolt at tea break and he came over all can't discuss an ongoing investigation with me, but rest assured I shall let you know if I hear anything else._

_Love,_

_Maggie_

_P.S. Say hello to Lupin for me as well, and pinch his cheeks if he's being sulky._

**

**Healer's Report**

**Date:** 19th July, 1977

**Time:** 10 AM

**Facility:** St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

**Department:** Magical Bugs, Neurological Division

**Healer:** Calvin Graham, Head of Department

**Patient:** Potter, Elizabeth Josephine, 185, Four Seasons House, Plymouth, Devon, England, acc. by Henry James Potter, 185, husband, James Henry Potter, 17, son, and Sirius Orion Black, 16, ward, addresses as above.

**Summary details:** Patient presented in good spirits, appeared lucid. Reported assorted aches and pains but no indicators of serious physical illness. Patient reported incidences of forgetfulness and confusion, possibly due to exposure to malformed _Confundus_ sustained while on holiday; for details see attached report from Healer Roger Bell, Club Morgana Castle Olaf. Performed Lufkin sequence, which indicated patient timeline intact and consistent with current conditions. 

Requested additional information regarding symptoms of confusion and disorientation from husband, son and ward of patient; data suggests patient has experienced at least two brief periods of temporal dislocation within the last two weeks, with the most recent regression occurring late in the evening on Monday, July 18, 1977. Modified Lufkin sequence performed on witnesses (husband, son and ward) suggests patient was experiencing a personal timeline of May 1873 and August 1971, respectively, on these occasions. 

**Conclusion:** Patient appears to be exhibiting signs of early stages of Aloisemil Syndrome, but further observation is required to confirm diagnosis. Husband, son and ward have volunteered to perform these observations; issued data forms and instructional leaflets.

**Treatment:** Administered two vials of Calming Draught to patient and released her to her family. Advised patient not to travel unaccompanied for at least six months pending final diagnosis. Also prescribed a 1 vial daily of tonic of eyebright, rosemary and sage.

**

_19th July, 1977_  
Dalriada House  
Forteviot  
Perth, Scotland 

_Dear Henry,_

_I am most grieved to hear of Elizabeth's illness. If you have need of anything please do not hesitate to call on me. With your permission I will advise Minerva and Poppy of these developments to they may be alert to any signs of distress in the children. On a related note, I was very pleased to hear Miss Evans has already offered to brew anything that may be required – you may absolutely rely upon her skill and her discretion._

_As for myself, I returned from a brief (but profitable) sojurn in Africa to find that our incumbent Defense professor has contrived to drown himself in the River Ness. Apparently he went fishing, and came to grief when his waders filled with water. I have interviewed several promising candidates already and have appointments in London with two more in the early part of next week. If you have room in your diary I would be honoured take you to tea – please advise regarding a date and time that would suit and I will book a table at our favourite restaurant._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_19th July, 1977_  
Ballynagalliah  
Londonderry  
N. Ireland 

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Thank you for your letter; I am pleased to hear the rest of your holiday was pleasant and uneventful, and that Sirius seems to be settling in, finally. I must thank you again for your generosity in taking him in to your home during these difficult times. I am deeply_

"Henry," Elizabeth said, and he looked up to see her standing in the doorway of his study in her dressing gown, a small goblin oil lamp in her hand. "It's late – come to bed, love," she added, and smiled at him, and for a moment, she was eighteen again. _So beautiful_ , he thought, distracted by the twinkle in her eye and the way her hair fell across her shoulders. 

"In a minute, dear," he said, waving a hand at his cluttered desk, and she made an inelegant noise in the back of her throat.

"Mmm, I'll just smoor the fire, then," she said, and made her way towards the hearth, and he half-listened to her teasing his Great-Great-Grandfather Hrolf about reading in the dark as he finished his letter.

_saddened to hear Mrs. Potter is unwell, and if there is any way Ted and I can assist you – including taking Sirius to live with us – please let me know and I will see to it right away._

_On a related note, I may have some reference texts here on the subject, and I will bring them through with me when we come on Thursday. I also know the names of a few growers who maintain a ready stock of items you may need – some are business associates of my fathers, but I assure you their politics do not match his own._

_Yours affectionately,_

_Andromeda Tonks_

"You'll not send him away," she said, from behind his chair – he had forgotten she could be stealthy. "No matter what happens, Henry, promise me, you will not send him away."

He folded the parchment carefully before looking up into her fierce expression. _Mother lions are the most dangerous_ , his own father had told him, once, and he could see the truth of it in the jut of her chin.

"Of course not, dear," he said, because he wouldn't have anyway – he had made that decision the same cold, snowy December night that James had awakened him, pale and wide-eyed, and said _He's done it, Dad, he's run away_ and then _He's in the kitchen, he's half-frozen, I said he can stay tonight, that's all right, yeah?_

"Good," she said, and her face settled back into a half-smile. "Now –"

"Bed," he agreed, and nuzzled her stomach, chuckling when she squeaked at him.


	16. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts 20: photograph of a sweaty shirtless man and 21: the first humans landed on the moon in the early dawn hours of july 21, 1969, greenwich mean time.

_20th July, 1977_  
12 Grimmauld Place  
London, England 

_Dear Regulus,_

_I am pleased to report that, thanks to your Uncle Cygnus' skill at brewing and some attentive nursing from Aunt Druella, your Great-Aunt Dorea has rallied and appears to be on the mend. Your mother is also feeling much more herself, though she is not up to company **quite** yet._

_Grandfather Arcturus and I will be waiting for you on the pier tomorrow, weather permitting – if it's wet you'll find us in the Merman's Revenge on the Quay. We are both keen to hear of your adventures!_

_Love,_

_Papa_

**

_21st July, 1977_

_Ministry for Magic_  
Apparation Testing Dept.  
London, England 

_Dear_ Sirius Black,

_Congratulations! You have been approved to take your Apparation Test on_ July 25, 1977 _at_ 9 o'clock _in the_ morning.

_Your testing location is_ Ministry Headquarters _and your test will be administered by_ Professor Griselda Marchbanks, CDMG, APMO, fdBB.

_Please remember to bring the following:_

_1\. The letter confirming your appointment  
2\. Proof of age; acceptable forms are as follows: 1) Birth certificate, 2) Letter from the Headmaster of an approved school of magic, 3) Letter from parents  
3\. Proof of residence in Britain  
4\. Your 2 galleon testing fee  
5\. A_ light cloak _or_ a summer jumper.

_If you fail your test at this time, you may reschedule to try again in_ three days time. _If you fail the second test, you must wait_ three months _before trying again. Best wishes for a successful test!_

_Sincerely,_

Samantha Trillingham  
Secretary  
Apparations Dept.

**

_21st July, 1977_  
Old Bessie  
Bught Park  
Inverness, Scotland 

_Dear Sirius,_

_Happy Birthday! Lionel and I are terribly sorry we can't be there for tea and cake (and firewhisky, I'm sure) on the big day, but we are hot on the trail of the Loch Ness "monster", as the locals refer to her. Lional caught a glimpse of a fin on Monday while we were out on a sight-seeing boat with some Muggles and has spent most of the last few days holed up inside our Bessie, practicing his bubble-head charms. For my part, I have been searching_

"Oi, Potter, mind the Floo," Peter said, and then the fireplace crackled and burbled and Remus came out of it in a flurry of knees, elbows and slightly tarnished gold braid. Looking at him – still wearing his work clothes ( _he rushed into the floo!_ ), smudged with ash and a little frayed around the edges – Sirius felt his stomach flip over in an uncomfortably familiar way, and had to clench his fingers around his knees against the urge to get up and dust Remus off.

"Sorry I'm late," Remus said, his voice steady but as hoarse as ever, and Sirius saw James' eyes widen briefly. "There was a bit of a traffic jam in Glasgow – bunch of Hufflepuffs arsing about, seeing how many of them would fit in a one-person floo at one go – the answer is three, as it turns out, and it packs up when you try four, or in their case, five," he added, smiling faintly, as he pulled his coat off. 

"Wankers," James said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement, and when Remus moved to sit down on the couch behind him, Sirius felt something unclench in his stomach. 

"How was work, then, Remus?" Lily asked, after a minute, just a little bit too loudly, while James shouted for a house-elf to bring tea, cake and a bottle of Ogden's finest, and Sirius turned back to his letter to avoid having to look her in the eye.

_for gillyweed – I am told it can be found growing wild in these parts. So far all I have found is two unhappy stray kneazles and one soaked and slightly spotty Yaxley, who was **also** looking for gillyweed, though he wouldn't tell me why. _

_The kneazles I took back with me to Bessie, as all good caravans require at least one, and the Yaxley I tied up in a neat bow and sent to Alastor Moody, as I have been told that is how one properly disposes of them. I have named the new arrivals Agrippa and Theophrastus, and Lional has already started referring to them as "Aggie" and "Theo" and bought them their own beds._

"Any news from London? I haven't seen the paper all day," Remus said, after a while, and Sirius felt fingers settle on the top of his head.

"Mmm, Mags wrote this morning, hold on," Lily said, and pulled a piece of parchment out of the pocket of her robes. "Right, she says the Ministry's still there, though there's been a bit of excitement in the Department of Mysteries, St. Mungo's still in an uproar, Kingsley still refusing to come across, the cheeky bugger, and – oh you'll like this, Remus, Brown has gone and proposed to Butcher, and she's accepted, as well."

"He never did," James said, around a piece of cake, and Peter made a startled noise.

"Picnic lunch, followed by a boat ride down the Serpentine and his granny's ring, which is apparently immense," Lily said, and the fingers on his head slid down behind his ears and started _scratching._

"Poor sod, no more hot Hufflepuff totty for _him_ ," Peter said, and James threw a pillow at him; Sirius used the resulting kerfluffle to shift so he was leaning against Remus' legs, half sure he had fallen asleep and was dreaming. 

He sat still for a while, almost afraid to move, but when the fingers remained after James pinned Peter three times and they settled down to game of Exploding Snap, and Lily pulled out her knitting and started talking to Remus about Muggle television shows, he went back to his letter.

_As for the Yaxley, I understand from Longbottom that he had to be tagged and released back into the wild, or at least to Dorchester, which is his natural habitat. He also told me if I find any more I'm to record my observations rather than collect a specimen, which I think rather ruins my fun, but oh well._

_Other than that, I have no particular news – my best to everyone, of course, and do write if you get the chance. We are quite starved for news up here, or at least news that does not involve things with scales or feathers._

_Yours affectionately,_

_Soleil Lovegood_


	17. Gift Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: 22: Presently we drove on and in another hour were hungry. We stopped at an inn, which was half farm also, and ate eggs and bacon, pickled walnuts and cheese, and drank our beer in a sunless parlour where an old clock ticked in the shadows and a cat slept by the empty grate." --Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited [1944]
> 
> 23: belle & sebastian, _a summer wasting_ and
> 
> 24: Photograph of a man with a black labrador, in bed, bathed in sunlight.
> 
> WARNINGS: **Character death (but not a Marauder! Or Mrs. Potter!)**
> 
> [Owlpen](http://www.owlpen.com/) is a real place, though the events of this story take place in the "deserted"village, _not_ the manor.

"Owlpen, near Uley," James muttered, frowning at the parchment in his hand, and Remus winced as Peter dragged his knife across his plate as he cut his chicken. _Arsehole_ , he thought, and suppressed a sigh. The day had _started_ well enough – he had woken up to find a huge black dog asleep on his feet, he and Sirius had managed to have a slightly awkward conversation about quidditch during breakfast, and then they had all gone for a fly in the back garden, and no-one had fallen off their broom. Disaster had struck during luncheon, when Mrs. Potter mistook James for his own grandfather and had to be sedated and put to bed, and they had just finished filling out the incident report and stuffing James with tea and biscuits when three of Lily’s cauldrons exploded for no apparent reason, and now – _this_.

 "Gloucestershire," Lily said, slowly, "in the Cotswalds. My auntie had a cottage near there for a while, we used to go on holidays –"

"He wasn't on the Floo," Sirius said, his first words since Andromeda’s ravens had swooped in from the back garden and settled in front of him and Mr. Potter, thin black-edged envelopes tied to their legs. James looked up, his expression hovering between confused and solicitous, and Lily bit her lip. "Didn’t have a wireless, either," Sirius added, the corners of his mouth turning up in a faint smile, "used to say they weren’t anything but idiots squawking about nonsense," and speared a stuffed prune with his fork.

"When's the funeral, then?" Peter asked, and James looked back down at the parchment, fiddling with his spoon with his free hand, while Lily drank deeply from her wine glass. Sirius murmured in Latin and the bowl of mashed potatoes rose up in front of Mr. Potter and began floating down the length of the table. Remus watched while he dropped two neat spoonfuls on his plate, covered them with thick brown sauce, and began to eat. 

"Tomorrow at nine o'clock in the morning, and she'll be through at eight to collect him," James said, a note of surprise in his voice, and looked up, his eyes gaze moving around the table from Sirius, who had started dissecting his chicken with uncommon ferocity, to Remus, to his father, until Remus coughed loudly to get his attention, and nodded once when their eyes met.

"I"ll have Hayrack tidy the hearth," Mr. Potter said, after a minute, and stood up slowly, pausing briefly to rest a hand on Sirius' shoulder before leaving the room.

**

_It should be colder_ , Remus thought, settling himself on one of the larger rocks in Alphard's back garden, overlooking the lichyard, _and perhaps a little bit rainy. And the birds should not be singing quite so loudly_ , he added, fishing in his pocket for the packet of cigarettes Lily had stuffed in there before they put their hands on the bin bag that was serving as a Portkey. _You'll want these_ , she had hissed, just before the world began to spin, and after two hours in the company of Sirius' relatives, he was inclined to agree with her.

_They can't keep us out, not really, as long as the wards let us through_ , Andromeda had said, as she led them up the narrow, overgrown path through the woods, holding Ted's elbow with one hand and waving prickly vines out of the way with her wand. _But they won't be happy about it_. To Remus' surprise, once they had slotted themselves in behind Alice and Longbottom ( _oh right, they **are** related_ ) there had been no shouting; instead they had been treated to two hours of muted gasping, pointed glaring, and muttering about _shameful_ and _blood-traitors and halfbreeds_ , even as Regulus Black walked out of the woods in front of the pallbearers, the cloth-draped body behind him held aloft by the wands of four different wizards. By the time Alphard's headstone had appeared out of the flames, Sirius and Andromeda both had white-knuckle grips on their wands, and Remus was ready to stuff a dungbomb down the throat of nearly everyone present.

_You volunteered_ , he reminded himself, as the door creaked open behind him, and Sirius emerged, bearing two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. _You could have let James do it, and you know it._

"That's a terrible habit, Mr. Lupin," Sirius said, as he came closer and sat down on the rock across from Remus', facing the cottage. Remus ignored him in favor of taking a drag deep enough to make his eyes water, but after a minute he grabbed the mug that was floating in front of him and held out the packet towards Sirius, who waved it away with a hand full of chocolate biscuits.

"I'm ready now, I think," Sirius said, when the plate was half empty, and set his tea cup down beside him. "You can tell me," he added, arranging his face in a neutral expression and folding his hands neatly in his lap, as he did when McGonagall gave them detentions. 

"Tell you what, exactly?" Remus asked, though he had a feeling he knew – _Why did you come back? What are you doing here?_ Sirius arched one thin black eyebrow at him and Remus sighed.

"Here?" he said, thinking _now?_ , and took another sip of tea, trying to ignore the pixies that had apparently taken up residence in his stomach when he wasn't paying attention. Sirius gave him a one-shouldered shrug and ate another biscuit. _Fine_ , Remus thought, and stubbed out the cigarette.

"I came home last Friday – I think it was Friday," he began, turning to look at the double stand of yew trees that led to the lich-yard gate, "anyway, I'd had the most awful day – the Aga packed up in the middle of lunch rush, Abigail had dropped four plates on the floor and they all had to be redone, and besides she was after me to take her to a film," he continued, looking back in time to notice Sirius' confused expression. 

"Where Muggles go to have a bit of a snog – dark and quiet, you know, Lily's mentioned them before," he added, and Sirius' expression darkened briefly. "And then two tables did a runner, which set Sinead and Aunt Fiona off, and by the time I left it had started to rain –" he paused and took a deep breath. "I just wanted a cheese toastie, a bath and my bed, really, and then I got home and Mum was gone – "

"Gone?" Sirius said, sitting up straight, his eyes wide with distress, and his hand, Remus noted, already curled around his wand. "Why didn't you –"

"Out, she was gone out," Remus said, quickly, "she'd gone through to Kirkwall to see a mate of hers, and I just forgot, is all," he added, and Sirius tucked his hair behind his ears and settled down again. 

"Anyway, I went to make myself the toastie and nothing in the kitchen would work, and then the tub wouldn't turn on, and finally when I gave up and decided to just go to bed, all of my books were gone and there was nothing in the room but an enormous blue pillow," he said, wincing at the memory. 

" _What?_ " Sirius spluttered, almost oversetting his tea cup, and Remus rubbed the ridges of his eyes with his fingers. _Almost done_ , he thought, _almost there_. 

"So I stood there for a bit, yeah, and then Dad put his head around the door, and we – had a bit of a row, I suppose," Remus said, and realized he had somehow lit another cigarette. "Anyway, he told me if I was going to act like a animal he would treat me like one, and I told him to fuck off out of it –"

"You never did," Sirius murmured, his tone half horrified and half awed; Remus shrugged and inhaled a lungful of smoke.

"And then I threw my wand at him and left," Remus continued, as a small bubble of hysterical laughter worked it's way up to his throat and out of his mouth. "I told him I was going to Germany and he couldn't bloody stop me," he continued, not daring to look at Sirius. 

"Germany," Sirius said, and Remus gulped down some more tea. "The pack in the Black Forest," he said, after a while, and Remus made a noise of agreement. 

"I was just so – _angry_ – anyway, off I went, down the road towards the loch, completely the wrong direction, really, and then I was even more annoyed because I couldn't Apparate – couldn't even call the Knight Bus, with no wand, but I was still determined – you're a Marauder, you can do this, I said to myself, and then it occurred to me that I would have to write to Prongs, of course, and tell him – something – and –" Remus paused, and waited for the ache in his chest to ease. 

"We would have come for you," Sirius said, so softly Remus almost didn't hear it, and slid off his rock with a soft _thump_. 

" – and also that you would think it was your fault, somehow," he continued, "which it was, in a way, but not – not _entirely_ – and so I would have to write to you, as well, because you wouldn't believe whatever I had said to James –"

"Mmm, no, I reckon not," Sirius said, a thread of amusement in his voice, and moved to stand in front of Remus, his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted to one side.

"—and that both of you would probably be on your brooms and over the Channel before you'd even finished the letters, and in huge amounts of trouble with the Ministry in the bargain, and then _both_ of you – and Peter, I suppose – would be loose in a forest full of werewolves and would get killed or thrown in Azkaban and it would all be down to me," Remus said, looking back at the yew trees, and took another deep breath. 

"And then I realized that I didn't want you dead, _or_ in jail, and also that you were the only one who could speak German properly, and so really I should take you along and – " _that I missed you_ " – and so I sat down and had a bit of think –" _and a bit of a cry_ "—and then I got up and walked home," he said, "and Grandfather Lupin was there, with Dad, and a map of Gemany – and, well, you know the rest."

"Oh," Sirius said, and rocked forward onto his toes for a moment, "I see," he added, and Remus was about to take another drag off of his cigarette when a silvery raven flew up and landed on Sirius' shoulder, and cawed at them until they went back in the cottage.

**

"Mmm, early dungeon with a troll accent, my favorite," Alice murmured in his ear, as a tall, grey-haired wizard with Sirius' nose moved to stand in the front of the room, and Remus had to bite down hard on his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

"The last Will and Testament of Alphard Phineas Black," the wizard said, and Remus sat up straight as the room went quiet. "I, Alphard Phineas Black, of the parish of Owlpen, in the month of March, in the year nine hundred seventy seven, of my own free will and by my own hand, do hereby request that Pollux Black, the executor of my estate, act as follows: First, to settle any debts that I may have incurred at the time of my death immediately and without prejudice and secondly, to see to it that the following bequests are disbursed," he continued, his voice wobbling a little, and Remus felt a pang of sympathy.

"To Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I leave the contents of my library, to be sold or retained at their discretion, though any monies realized from the sale of my books is to be added to the Scholarship Fund," he said, and Remus heard Alice make a surprised noise next to him. 

"To Professor Pomona Sprout, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I leave the entire contents of my kitchen gardens, and any cuttings she may deem useful from elsewhere on the grounds," he continued, and Remus heard someone else make an outraged noise near the front of the room.

"To my niece, Andromeda Tonks, formerly Andromeda Black, and her husband, Theodore Tonks, I leave the contents of my garage," the wizard continued, his voice now quite steady and cold with rage, and Remus turned his head in time to see a gold key hanging in front of Andromeda's shocked face, before Ted closed his hand around it.

"To the Northern Transylvania Dragon Preserve, I leave the remainder of my personal possessions, to be sold or retained at their discretion, with any monies realized from the sale to be applied to the costs of upkeep for the Welsh Greens and Hungarian Horntails," the wizard continued, and a wave of angry muttering rolled through the room. 

"To my nephew, Sirius Black, I leave the sum of ten thousand galleons or remainder of my estate after my debts have been paid, whichever is greater, to do with as he sees fit," the wizard continued, and another gold key appeared in front of Sirius, who reached up and took it, and then (of all things) _bit_ it. There was a brief silence before the room erupted in shouting and Alice and Longbottom surged to their feet, wands at the ready.

_Ten thousand galleons_ , Remus thought, as Alice waved at them to _get out, get out_ , Sirius' mother began screaming and Andromeda rose, slowly, and led them down the stairs and into the back garden.

"The garage, he said?" Ted murmured, and Andromeda blinked at him twice before gesturing at a small, faded red building next to the path to the cemetery.

"Hurry, Ted," Andromeda said, as he walked away, and turned to Sirius. "They'll fight it you know, but –"

"Magically binding," Sirius said, absently, and Andromeda nodded, and then to Remus' surprise they both started giggling, and did not stop until a long _beeeeep!_ filled the air, and Ted reappeared, grinning broadly.

"Excellent taste in automobiles, your uncle," Ted said, smoothing his robes down with his hands, "He's got a Morris Six in there, though I can't imagine what he did with it. And, ah, I don't know about you lot, but I could do with some proper food. Where's the nearest pub, then, darling?"

"He liked engines," Sirius said between deep breaths, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.

"Over the way, I can direct you," Andromeda managed, her lips still twitching. "What do you think, gentlemen, do you fancy a ride in the country and a fry-up, or is it straight home for tea?" she asked, turning to look at them.

"Pub," they said, in unison, and then Sirius punched him in the shoulder, and Remus decided everything might possibly be all right after all.


	18. Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: 25: The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all about him, and that special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get out of town in summer -- all worked painfully upon the young man's already overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pot-houses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and the drunken men whom he met continually, although it was a working day, completed the revolting misery of the picture. --Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment [1917]
> 
> 26: Black and white photograph of a field and a tree
> 
> 27: Padraic Colum, _River-Mates_ [1922]
> 
> WARNINGS: Contains Inferi. Also a battle, and post-battle frottage and a blowjob.

Remus was standing behind Sirius in the Departures line, half-listening to James and Peter argue about the Harpies chances for the Cup, when he heard someone start screaming behind him, high-pitched and a little bit breathy. He saw Lily's eyes go wide and turned around to see several horribly familiar masked and hooded figures step out of the Arrivals hearths. 

"Bloody buggering _hell_ ," Sirius said, and Remus caught a glimpse of long blond hair ( _Malfoy_ ) and followed by a flash of black hair and the gentle swell of a bosom ( _Bellatrix?_ ) as the hooded figures moved forwards, wands raised, and more people started screaming. He felt someone – probably Sirius – wrap an arm around his waist, holding him upright even as the crowd dragged them backwards, and took a deep breath to say – something – and that was when he smelled it – the stench of the sewer ( _or the grave_ ), heavy, thick, and cloying– and he saw more figures come lumbering out of the Arrivals hearths, one wearing a heavy black cloak, the others bare-headed, their movements stiff and slow. 

_Oh Merlin, no_ , Remus thought, and felt Sirius' grip on him tighten. He curled his fingers around his wand and tried to remember where he had read about the – _things_ – _people_ – in front of him. _Fire_ , he thought, _we'll need fire –_

"Silence," said the hooded figure, in a voice that made Remus' bones ache, and the screaming died down to a muffled sobbing. "Bring the half-breeds and mudbloods to me," he continued, and sliding his hood back with his hands, and the crowd gasped. _His face_ , Remus thought, _it's melted._

"Do it _now_ ," Lord Voldemort added, and the screaming started up again as people began to move, grabbing hold of their neighbors and dragging them towards the Death Eaters. All around him Remus could see people's faces tensing, as if they were thinking very hard about something, and then settling into horrified expressions – _Anti-apparation wards_ , he thought, and squeezed one of Sirius' hands.

"FORM UP, GRYFFINDOR," James roared, and for a moment, everything was terribly quiet, and then several witches and wizards Remus didn't recognize began pushing their way through the crowd towards James. He felt a brief brush of lips against his neck and then Sirius let go of him and moved to stand between James and Peter. _What?_ Remus thought, as enormous tortoise wriggled out of Lily's wand, stretched its head out for instructions, and rocketed upwards, its fins pumping hard.

"Foolish children," Lord Voldemort said, waving the Death Eaters and the Inferi forward, and the world became a blur of red and blue light ( _no green, please no green_ ) and _hot_ , so hot ( _fire_ ) and the room began to fill with smoke. He was about to cast a bubblehead charm on himself when someone screamed _Conjunctivo!_ and the world went black.

"On the right, Moony!" Sirius said, and Remus turned towards his voice, trying to ignore the burning in his lungs, and then someone else bellowed _Stupefy!_ and he knew no more.

**

Poppy was halfway through reviewing the morning's Healer reports from the Spell Damage Ward, and contemplating suggesting to Albus that there should be O.W.L.'s for spelling, when the ward doors burst open with a _bang!_ and Frank Longbottom ( _20, Gryffindor, Auror_ ) appeared in front of her, his freckles bright against the paleness of his skin, a bundle of robes – _No_ , she thought, catching sight of brown curls by his shoulder – _that's a person_ – clutched against his chest. She heard some shouting in the corridor and then the door burst open again, this time producing a brace of Prewetts ( _22, Gryffindors, Aurors_ ), Kingsley Shacklebolt ( _18, Gryffindor, Junior Auror_ ), all similarly encumbered, followed by Peter Pettigrew ( _17, 7th Yr Gryffindor_ ) with his arm around Lily Evans ( _17, 7th Yr Gryffindor, Prefect_ ). 

"What –" she began, and then they all started talking at once. She caught something about _inferi_ and _fire_ and _two stunners to the chest_ before she gave up on sorting it all out by herself, raised her wand to summon additional healers, and led them into a room with empty beds. 

"What spells did they use?" she said to Shacklebolt, when he had deposited his cargo ( _Remus Lupin, 17, 7th Yr Gryffindor, Prefect, Werewolf_ ), and he blinked at her a couple of times. _Shock_ , she thought, and suppressed a sigh. Well, he was still upright, and didn't seem to have any major injuries –

"Report, Mr. Shacklebolt," she said, as sternly as she could manage, and slid her thumb along Lupin's neck until she found his pulse – still steady, thank Merlin, though his breathing sounded strained. She ran her wand over his chest, murmuring in Latin, and saw his body relax as his chest started to rise and fall in a more steady rhythm.

"The Longbottoms, the Prewetts and I were on a tea break when we received an urgent message from Evans," Shacklebolt said, as she began undoing Lupin's robes. "We notified Alastor Moody of the emergency and attempted to Apparate into the Atrium, which was unsuccessful, and then we tried the lifts, but they appeared to be out of service, so we went down to Moody's office and tried the Floo, which was successful," he continued, his voice becoming steadier as he spoke. 

She glanced up briefly and saw Longbottom being led away from one of the beds by a Prewett, and pushed into a comfortable chair. After a moment the other Prewett pulled up a chair and sat down next to him, and settled a hand on his shoulder. _Good boy_ , she thought, and went back to Lupin's buttons.

"We arrived in the Atrium at approximately half-nine in the morning, and –" Shacklebolt continued, and then Lupin twitched under her fingers and she felt a hand close around her wrist with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Let go, please, Mr. Lupin," she murmured, and he turned his face towards her, frowning faintly, and she leaned forward slightly when she saw his other hand rising slowly off of the bed, his fingers straining towards her face, and held still as his fingertips brushed over her lips and nose. _Conjunctivo_ , she thought, and made a mental note that she would need some eyebright salve once the counter-curse had been applied.

"You're at St. Mungo's, Mr. Lupin," she said, when he seemed to have finished, "we're going to sort you out now, all right?" she added, and then to her surprise he drew his wand and pulled her down so that their noses were almost touching. She heard Shacklebolt make a noise and held her other hand up to stop him from doing anything rash. Lupin turned his head and coughed twice ( _dry, probably painful_ ) and she lowered her free hand to rest on his stomach. She could hear Evans talking to one of the other Healers in the background, describing the battle in lurid detail, and said a quiet prayer of thanks that they had all somehow survived.

"Where did the fairies kiss me?" Lupin hissed, his voice cracking a little, and she smiled, remembering the expression on his tiny, solemn face the first time she had used the phrase in his hearing.

"Behind your left knee, and they were tiddly on port-wine when they did it," she whispered, and she felt his fingers relax, though he did not release her.

"Sirius," he said, in a more normal tone, "and James, where –"

"They're here, Lupin," Shacklebolt said, leaning in so that their foreheads almost touched, "the Prewetts got them, they'll be fine, and Evans and Pettigrew are here as well," he added, and her wrist was suddenly cold as his hand fell back on the bed.

"You're going to have a little sleep now, Mr. Lupin," she said, straightening up, and fished a small vial of pain potion out of her apron. "Brace yourself, this one is bit bitter going down," she continued, unscrewing the top, though she noted he did not resist when she poured half of it down his throat.

**

"You know this used to be one big field," Remus said, waving his hand at the grimy buildings outside the windows of the Ministry car. "With trees, probably, and _animals_ ," he added, elbowing Sirius in the ribs. 

"Yes, Moony," Sirius said, and shifted out of range for a moment or two, rubbing at his face with one hand. Madame Pomfrey had _said_ they were all right to go home, but he wasn't entirely sure he agreed with her. He also had not liked leaving James behind, as quiet and still as he was, but Lily had _insisted_ she would watch over him, and would summon them if there was even the tiniest of changes, and so, in the end, he had gathered up his things – including his now slightly singed Apparation License – and taken the room key Mr. Potter had pressed into his hand.

"Elephants," Remus said, thoughtfully, "and cows with really big horns," he added, and then the car came to a halt, and Sirius heard the locks pop up with a faint _snick_.

"Thanks," he said to the driver, and prodded Remus until he pushed the door open and got out, swaying slightly as he did so. _Please don't fall,_ he thought, as he tried to get his own limbs to behave, but they made it inside without further incident.

Remus was quiet while Tom led them up the stairs and showed them their room ( _one huge bed, a fireplace, a cot by the window, a small table_ ) and flopped down on the bed with a little sigh once they were left alone. _I'll have the cot, then_ , Sirius thought, and rubbed his face again, because what he _really_ wanted was to flop down next to Remus and fall asleep with his head on his shoulder, as they had done – before. And for all that he seemed to have been forgiven, he suspected it did not extend to _snuggling_. And there was still the small matter of the girl – Abigail? – who he had not yet summoned the nerve to ask about. _You're finished there, mate_ , he thought to himself, as he stripped his clothes off and wandered into the bath, intent on scrubbing the smell of the hospital off of his skin.

When he emerged, he found a steaming bowl of stew and a cup of tea on the table and Remus curled up on top of the bed, bollocks naked, apparently sleeping. He realized he must have made some sort of noise when Remus opened his eyes and smiled at him. _This is **not fair**_ , Sirius thought, glad he had put his robes back on, even if they did smell a bit strange.

"Tea time, Padfoot," Remus said, pushing himself up on one arm, and Sirius sat down carefully. "It's good," he added, and lay back down again. And it was good, full of chewy bits of beef and chunks of potato, and Sirius ate it quickly, before it got cold.

"You rang your mum," he said, when he had swallowed the last bit of broth, and Remus made a noise of agreement. 

"Dad told her I was fine, but she wasn't having it, of course," Remus said, uncurling into a stretch, and Sirius fixed his eyes firmly on the table. _This is ridiculous_ , he thought, around a small spike of irritation. But really, what was he going to say? _You have a girlfriend, please stop being gratuitously naked at me?_

"And –" Sirius took a deep breath, "Abigail? You rang her as well?"

" _Abigail?_ " Remus said, sounding genuinely confused, "Why would I – _oh_ ," he continued, and Sirius heard the bed creak as he sat up. 

"That – well, she's probably quite cross with me just now," Remus said, a thread of laughter in his voice. "Since Mum will be covering Sinead this week, and she always tells her to stop sniveling and get back in the dining room when she's fussed over a customer," he added, and Sirius resisted the urge to bang his head on the table.

"Come here, Padfoot," Remus said, after a bit, and to his own surprise, Sirius did, and he had just sat down and braced himself for what he was sure would be bad news when Remus slid a hand behind his neck and kissed him, firmly but gently, and then somehow they ended up in the middle of the bed in a tangle of limbs and robes with Sirius on the bottom.

"Moony," he said, settling his hands on Remus' hips, carefully looking at his _face_ , "Moony, what –"

"Mmm, you smell like a firepit," Remus said, and then Sirius' clothes disappeared with a faint _pop!_ and Remus leaned over and made a contented noise against his shoulder. 

"Moony," Sirius said, feeling a little breathless, and Remus pushed away, his expression shifting from content to troubled. "It's all right," Sirius said, quickly ( _please don't get off me_ ), "I just –"

"I told her before I left that I had someone at school, and we'd had a bit of a falling out, but that I wanted to try and sort things out," Remus said, his lips curving in a small smile, and Sirius slid one hand over his belly and on to his cock ( _so warm so hard_ ) and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Mmm, _yes_ , Padfoot," Remus said, and rocked forward again, kissing and licking and nibbling until Sirius was sure he was going to _explode_ , and then he wriggled up, away and –Sirius froze – _down_ – Sirius closed his eyes – there were hands on his hips, holding him down, and a wet warm mouth licking and sucking, and when he felt the pressure building he reached down and pressed hard on Remus' fingers, as a warning, but all that happened was Remus twined their fingers together and kept sucking, until Sirius came.

"Good?" Remus asked, after a minute, and Sirius hooked a foot under his arse and shoved him upwards, and where he could grab him and pull him close, all rough hands and pointy elbows and _his_. "Good," Remus said, and then Sirius rolled them a little, so he could get his nose behind Remus' ear, and his hand between their bellies, and there was some more kissing, which eventually became thrusting, and then Remus went rigid and Sirius felt something warm and wet against his stomach. _Good_ , he thought, as he felt Remus' fingers curl in his hair, and shifted some of his weight back onto the bed.

"Deer, I think," Remus said a bit later, after they had cleaned up a bit and pulled the blanket over them, his fingertips tracing patterns on Sirius' back. "And smaller creatures, like otters," he added.

"Too far south," Sirius murmured, "have to be in Scotland, where the salmon are," he added, and fell asleep.


	19. Moonrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: 28: Black and white photograph of a young, dark haired man in a white button down shirt with a black tie, arms outstretched.
> 
> and
> 
> 29: "If you saw a heat wave, would you wave back?" --Steven Wright
> 
> Warnings: Contains heavy petting, a handjob, and a blowjob.

**Memo**

**To:** Rufus Scrimgour, Auror, Head, Department of Magical Law Enforcement  
 **CC:** Alastor Moody, Auror, Head, London City Div.. Dept. Magical Law Enforcement  
 **From:** Frank Longbotton, Auror, London City Div.. Dept. Magical Law Enforcement  
 **Date:** 28th July, 1977  
 **Re:** Death Eater Attack, Ministry for Magic (Atrium), London, England

 **Date:** 25th July, 1977 at approx. 9:15 AM GMT

 **Loc.** : Atrium, Ministry for Magic, London, England

 **Charges:** Multiple counts of assault with intent to murder, use of _Inferi_ and other proscribed magic; attempted coup d'Ètat; attempt to assume control of the Floo Network for use for Dark purposes.

_Tap tap tap_

"Enter," he snapped, looking up from the report, and the door creaked open to reveal – Mary? Melissa? the tea girl, what was her name – he squinted at the badge on her chest – Magdalena. _Rising 7th Year Gryffindor, friendly with Shacklebolt_ , his brain filled in as he glared at her, obscurely pleased that she didn't scuttle away immediately. 

"The usual, Mr. Moody?" she asked, as his office filled with the smell of pumpkin pasties, and he nodded once before looking back down at the report.

 **Alleged Perpetrators:** "Lord" Voldemort and Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix LeStrange and Rudolphus Lestrange; please see attached list (Appendix I) for full details.

 **Victims:** 5 killed, 25 severely injured, 50 sustained minor injuries; please see attached list (Appendix II) for full details.

 **Witnesses:** 35 wizards, 30 witches, 5 Squibs, 5 children, please see attached list (Appendix III) for full details.

 **Reported by:** Lily Evans, 17, (rising) 7th Year Gryffindor  & Prefect, The Shambles, nr. Little Snoring, Norfolk, via Patronus

 **Confirmed:** Josephine Whittington, 42, Juno House, Ipswich, England, via Patronus; visual confirmation also made by reporting Auror. 

"Word on the party-floo is Alice Longbottom is a bit better– Gideon reckons she'll be back at work tonight, if she can," she said, and crouched down in front of her cart, and he looked up again, mildly annoyed that he had to hear these things from the _tea girl_. He also made a mental note to have someone ward Alice and Frank's offices against them until at least Monday.

"Also, James Potter woke up around lunchtime and started complaining about the taste of the potions, the Minister's come back from Corfu and is shouting at people, Stubby Boardman's gone and gotten himself engaged to one of the Harpies but no-one knows which one," she continued, straightening up and handing him a steaming cup of tea and plate of carrot cake, "and –"

"Thank you, Magdalena," he said, shaking a few sickles out of his pocket and sliding them across his desk.

"Yes, sir," she said, her mouth curving into a broad smile, swept the money into her hand, and backed the cart out into the corridor. 

He took a sip of the tea and turned back to the report, scraping some jammy smudges away with the tip of his wand. He had gotten as far as _9:25 AM Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom and Gideon and Fabian Prewett enter the Atrium. F. Longbottom witnesses DE (suspected identity: Bellatrix Lestrange) cast **Cruciatus** on three people, including her cousin, Sirius Black_ , when he heard another faint tap tap tap and Albus Dumbledore put his head around the door.

"Come in, Albus," he said, waving away the proffered sherbet lemon, and congratulated himself on not groaning aloud when one of his filing cabinets got turned into a red velvet settee. 

"I understand the Irish Ministry is sending a team over to help with witness interviews," Albus said, and he made a noise of agreement. "And the French are sending spell residue experts, is that right?"

"They're coming through from Calais tomorrow," he said, and ran his magic eye over Albus, but there was, as usual, nothing there. "You've been to see the boy?" he asked after a while, and Albus sighed softly.

"Scrimgour and I saw him together, earlier, and he knows you'll be wanting to speak with him. I saw the Prewetts as well, they've been 'round to help Henry re-do the wards, since Elizabeth has been very unwell, these last few days," Albus said, his lips pinching into a thin line. "I made a visit to the homes of Miss Evans, Mr. Pettigrew, and Mr. Lupin as well," he added, "and I have seen to it that their parents have taken – appropriate precautions."

 _You warded them up like sardines, you mean, and Statutes of Secrecy be hanged_ , Alastor thought, and took another deep drink of his tea, because for the first time in all of the years they had known each other – fought together – Albus Dumbledore looked _old_.

"And the Longbottoms?" Albus said, cocking his head to one side and narrowing his eyes.

"Dearborn and Fenwick sorted the flat out yesterday, and Scrimgour stopped in to see Augusta and Rollo Longbottom on Tuesday and Xavier Prewett yesterday," Alastor murmured, setting his tea-cup down, and resting a hand on the report. _And I'll have a word with Frank now that Alice is on the mend._

"Can I –help you, in any way?" Albus said, gesturing at the paperwork, and Alastor gave him a look that he hoped said _nice try, but not a chance_. "Right, then, I'll leave you to it, will I?" Albus said, and stood up, returning the settee to its original form with a wave of his wand.

"See you later, Albus," he murmured, as the door slid shut, and lit another candle.

**

"This is Ashompus Jones with the Wizarding Wireless Network reporting live from Queerditch Marsh, where it is nine-thirty in the morning and the temperature on the pitch has already reached thirty degrees. For those of you just tuning in, the Braga Bloomfleet are already one up on the Pride of Portree, and the Snitch is flying high and fast today, ladies and gentlemen, high and fast," the announcer said, as Remus dropped his head onto the back of the overstuffed chair that had mysteriously appeared in the room while he was in the shower, clasped his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes. _Just until Padfoot gets out of the shower_ , he thought, angling his face towards the window, in hopes of catching a breeze, and drifted off, lulled by the wireless, the muffled sound of Sirius singing in the shower and the rumble of cars on Charing Cross Road.

Sometime later he was awakened by a wet nose being pushed against his hands, followed by two enormous paws on his thighs as Padfoot tried to climb into his lap.

"Nnnargh," he managed, as the dog shifted its weight and attempted to haul its back feet up, "still think you're a puppy, is that it?" he added, grimacing as one massive foot bore down on his crotch, and the dog shimmered into a boy.

"Fuck off," Sirius said, and shifted around so his head was on Remus' right shoulder. "Who's winning?" he added, as Remus slid his arms around his waist and reclasped his hands. _Five more minutes,_ Remus thought, as Ashompus Jones informed them it was 10 o'clock and all was well at Queerditch, _and then we have to get moving, or we won't get any breakfast before the car comes to collect us. If we miss the car we'll have to take the Underground and then everyone will go spare –_

"Portugal, I think, though Portree is picking up a bit," Remus murmured, and Sirius made a displeased noise. "Their Seeker tried a Wronski Feint earlier –"

"You're all dressed up," Sirius said, tugging on Remus' collar, and Remus moved one hand up to loosen his tie. 

"Grandfather runs a formal household," Remus said, dropping his hand into Sirius' lap, "and I have to at least _try_ and look respectable, you know, before I have to excuse myself to the shed in the back garden and turn into a ravening monster," he added, and one of Sirius' hands settled on his chest.

"I could see James settled at home and then sneak out and meet you there, or – I could get Peter from his mum's and we could go to the Shack," Sirius said, softly, as the Braga Broomfleet scored another goal, and Remus sighed into his hair.

"Grandfather has anti-Apparation wards all over the house and the garden," he said, "and you know I'm only allowed the Shack during term time."

"Stupid rule," Sirius said, and fell silent for a while. Remus heard his stomach rumble, was about to suggest they go down and get some breakfast when Sirius snuggled closer and started mouthing his neck, drawing circles and lines with feathery touches of lips and tongue. _Mmmmmm, all right, five more minutes_ , Remus thought, as all of the blood in his body sank into his cock, and started rubbing circles in Sirius' back as encouragement.

"Mmmm, no _lovebites_ ," Remus said a bit later, when he felt a hint of teeth, and Sirius made a soft huffing noise and began working his way up and over Remus' jaw until he settled on his mouth. Remus closed his eyes and relaxed into the kiss, and then slid his hands under Sirius robes', over his bare thighs ( _it is meant to be warm outside_ ) and under his pants until he captured his quarry.

"Mm-hmm- _hmm_ ," Sirius said, thrusting into the touch, and slid his hands behind Remus' ears and started rubbing slow circles with his thumbs. Remus curled his fingers around Sirius ( _so heavy, so warm_ ) and adopted a slow, steady pace, picking up slightly when he started whimpering, and then held it until Sirius made a small, vaguely surprised noise, came, and collapsed against his chest, breathing hard.

"Your turn now," Sirius said, after a minute, and slid off of Remus' lap and onto the floor.

"Padfoot –" he began, because they didn't have _time_ , but then his cock was in Sirius' mouth and he decided the poached eggs from the tearoom at St. Mungo's weren't _that_ bad, not _really_. _Oh, yes_ , he thought, as Sirius licked and sucked and massaged his balls, _ohmerlinoh -_

"Padfoot," he said again, putting his clean hand on Sirius' head and fighting the urge to thrust, and then Sirius squeezed his thighs gently and it was all over. Remus crossed his legs behind Sirius and pulled him close before letting his head fall back against the chair once more and taking a deep breath. _We've missed the car for sure_ , he thought, as magic tickled his hand and his crotch.

"Are you coming back to James', after –" Sirius began, as he wriggled free of Remus' legs and rolled to his feet, and then they both flinched when someone started banging on the door.

"Don't know yet, have to ask Mum," Remus said, as Tom shouted for them to _come on come on, yer cars here!_ , then picked up his bag and dragged Sirius out of the room.


	20. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: 30: postcards
> 
> and
> 
> 31: THE LUCKSMITHS, _Sunlight in a Jar_

_30th July, 1977_  
Ballynagalliah  
Londonderry  
N. Ireland 

_Dear Puppy,_

_Thank you for your note – I had forgotten the, ah, "charms" of postcards from the St. Mungo's shop. (Or did you tinker with it to make the bearing bird turn bright pink? Munin was Not Amused.) Anyway I am glad to hear James, et al, are on the mend. The party-floo has been echoingly silent on the subject of the whereabouts of the Wicked Sisters and the Pointy Git_

"Oh for fuck's _sake_ ," James said, from the direction of the floor, and Sirius looked up to see him brandishing a piece of parchment bearing the Hogwarts crest.

"We're expelled?" Sirius asked, his heart dropping into his stomach ( _we didn't do anything wrong!_ ) and James made an amused noise.

"No, we are not expelled," he said, "but I think Fabian's gotten better at forging McGonagall's handwriting," he added, his lips twitching.

"Fabian?" Sirius repeated, now thoroughly confused, and James threw something small and golden at him, and he caught it before it hit the window. "I see what you mean," he said, flipping the thing – the badge – over in his hand, running his fingers over the raised _HB_ on the front. "I thought these had to be given back at the end of term?"

"In theory, yes," James said, and pulled another envelope from his stack of post. Sirius tucked the badge into his pocket (it had prankish possibilities, after all) and went back to his letter.

_but, as I said to Gideon, I will not injure them **too** badly if I find them first._

_In other news, Husband has informed me we are moving again. I wish he would decide these things **before** I lay out my kitchen garden. But I suppose the next tenant will enjoy my courgettes in my place. Child is also distraught but has been temporarily soothed with _

"Ah, Sirius, do you still have that badge?" James said, his voice a little strained, and he fished it out of his pocket and tossed it at James without looking up.

_promises of new and interesting animals to invite over for tea. I can't tell you where we're going, but the weather is supposed to be a bit better there – sunnier, for a start._

_Anyway, must dash – I've left Sugalump alone in the kitchen, Merlin knows how many puddings she's made by now – but I will write again as soon as I can. Be careful, love, don't spend all of Alphard's money in one place, and good luck with your N.E.W.T.S.!_

_Love,_

_Andromeda_

_p.s. Husband encloses a note of his own and recommends Rock Oil, and Child wanted to enclose a freshly caught toad but I had to tell her they don't travel well._

"Rock Oil?" Sirius murmured, and opened the folded piece of parchment that bore Ted's untidy scrawl, and swore quietly when something –a _key?_ – fell into his lap.

_Sirius,_

_In the barn, two stalls down on the left. I hate to give her up, but I'm sure you'll look after her properly for me._

_Ted_

"Sirius? All right, mate? No-one else's died, have they?" James said, his voice much closer now, sounding worried, and Sirius shook his head.

"Barn, Prongs, now," he said, pushing himself up off the couch, and disappeared with a _crack!_ before James could ask any questions.

**

_31st July, 1977_  
Jupiter's Garden  
Colchester, England 

_Dear Sirius,_

_Thank you very much for the stuffed acromantula. It is possibly the most hideous plush toy I have ever encountered, and I'm really rather fond of it. I have named it Hephesteous and this morning I charmed it to walk around the house by itself, much to Dad's dismay. (Grandfather, however, wanted to know how I'd done it. He's been really alarmingly pleasant – even to Mum – and I'm starting to wonder if a quick Finite Incantatem is in order.) Also, is it **supposed** to smell of hair oil, peppermint, apple pie and patchouli, or did it meet with an accident in the post?_

_Please tell James that my note of congratulations was not sarcastic, and that I am not cross, not even a tiny bit. It is a bit irregular, I suppose, being made Head Boy without having been a prefect (or being known for having any regard for school rules whatsoever) but least I shall probably be able to stay awake through prefect meetings this year without Evans having to kick me in the ankle every five minutes. Though I **am** dreading the prospects of late-night rounds with Butcher._

_In other news, Frank and Alice Longbottom came 'round this morning while I was still asleep (Mum told them I had the flu), and they promised to call back again later, so I suppose Uncle Augustus didn't snarl at them too much. (He and dad had their yearly row not long after we arrived and he's been sulking in the front parlour with his potions magazines ever since, terrorizing the house-elves.)_

_Anyway, I'm being summoned to dinner (boiled tongue, **again** ) so I will write more later._

_I miss you too._

_Remus_

_p.s. Sinead resigned this morning, apparently, so I am on duty for the rest of the summer and cannot come back down, but I will see you in a fortnight or so when I come down to get school supplies, presuming no-one blows up Diagon Alley between now and then._

_p.p.s. I do not think you are going to be able to get a motorbike on the Hogwarts Express. Can you not just leave it in the Potters' barn?_


End file.
